Trust Falls
by ShooBeans
Summary: Reid has never been very good at asking for help which leads him into a less than pleasant situation in a bar. The most startling thing that happens, however, is how Hotch reacts. Hotch/Reid slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Criminal Minds related and the base of this story belongs to RoseLaurel.**

I was inspired by an author, RoseLaurel, who has a wonderful set of Hotch/Reid drabbles called Live and Let Love, which you should definitely check out, especially the one called Tourniquet. But this story was actually inspired by her story 'What It Feels Like To Love.' I borrowed the base idea of Reid getting hit on in a bar and Hotch swooping in to save him. But yeah, super good, should check them out.

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Spencer had always prided himself on being a perfectly rational, calm being. Need he point out just what he did for a living? The whole facing down serial killers on a daily bases sort of spoke for itself, at least in his mind. But _this_? Even Spencer had limits to his rationality.

Beneath the counter, Spencer flexed his hands, balling them up into fists for a moment. Of course, Spencer couldn't ever imagine resorting to something as savage as a drunken bar brawl. Well, not quite drunken on his own part as the glass in front of him was simply club soda with a lime wedge. Spencer would have preferred water, he really would have, but Morgan would have been all over him, pushing shots with questionable colour liquids at him with less than respectable names. No, Spencer did not wish to partake in anything even remotely referred to as a 'Panty Dropper.' The seltzer was simply for show, to give Morgan the impression that he was drinking a gin and tonic.

Because apparently, Morgan seemed to believe that team drinking and thus team excursions to the bar triumphed over normal bonding exercises like trust falls. While Reid wasn't all that crazy for trust falls either – Reid couldn't exactly recall ever having successfully completed one come to think of it – it did seem just slightly preferable to his present situation. Reid simply didn't like to drink and contrary to popular myth, building any sort of interpersonal connection centered around alcohol or any substance for that matter was not conducive to a relationship be it professional, friendly, or otherwise.

"You sure I can't get you a shot, sugar? They have this great one called blowjob," the nameless male beside of him cooed. Not for the first time, Reid leaned away on his barstool as the other male attempted to lean closer. And for god's sake, as if the other hadn't been forward and crude enough as it were, the male simply felt the need to continue, "All you'd have ta do is tilt that pretty head of yours back and open your mouth wide." A smirk. "Real wide."

And then, much to Reid's disgust, the man actually had the audacity to press his large hand against Reid's thigh, giving the smaller male a squeeze.

Reid balled his fists once more, narrowing his eyes. "As I have already informed you," Reid began curtly, promptly moving to pull his leg away though he frowned when the other would not concede his grip, "I am not interested." And god, people thought that he was dense! But this guy… this guy did not even remotely understand just what the word 'no' meant. After all, everything about Reid's posture said that the other male didn't stand a chance: as if recoiling wasn't enough, his hips were very much pointed away, his spine was stiffened, his shoulder was facing the male, his jaw locked in place, eyes narrowed. Didn't take a profiler to see that Reid wanted the creature that was invading his personal space to disappear.

And still, even if all of that hadn't been enough, what part of 'not interested' could not penetrate that thick, Neanderthal-looking skull? Talk about a protruding brow bone. Absentmindedly Reid wondered if perhaps his gun or badge would get the message across better.

But well, pulling a gun on a random drunk citizen would probably not reflect all that well on the BAU. Unfortunately. And well, it'd cause a scene which held the potential to ruin the team's night out. At least they should be able to enjoy themselves, right? They were still around the bar… somewhere. Morgan had claimed that this was a bonding experience but so far the only bonding Reid had seen was a couple of girls grinding against said older profiler. Of course, Derek's possible threesome or tensome or whatever the body count was up to now had no real baring on the present situation before Reid, you know, the situation that was moving his hand higher.

Quickly Reid reached down to catch said hand, giving the offender a stern glare. Though he managed to halt the progression of the appendage, he wasn't quite strong enough to forcibly remove the increasingly tight grip. God he was going to be pissed if he had bruises in the morning.

"Don't you want to play?" the male pressed and Reid wondered if his face reflected his level of disgust.

_Yeah, I want to play 'go fuck yourself.'_

Of course, Reid's well engrained manners and rationality would never allow him to say such a thing aloud. As if he really were trying to make Reid throw up, the man actually dropped his free hand into his own lap, leisurely stroking himself through his pants. Vile didn't even begin to cover it.

"Let me go. Now. I will not ask again," Reid snapped rather venomously.

The male's eyes lit up in an almost… delight, and for the first time that evening, Reid felt a small twinge of fear. At first this man had been a simple irritation, but that look? Instantly he slipped into profiler mode, trying to assess the level of threat that this drunk presented to his wellbeing. The other was clearly controlling as evident by the tight grip he was keeping on Reid's leg; the other couldn't accept being turned down; he had sought out Reid as his target who had in fact appeared to be alone, had a somewhat meek and absentminded disposition, and, to the untrained eye, very much seemed as though he would not be able to defend himself against a much larger opponent; the man was overly aggressive but that much was a given; he was also considerably intoxicated. While being drunk was nothing rare given their current venue of choice, it was certainly a factor for Reid to consider. After all, alcohol wasn't known as liquid courage for no reason.

Over all, this situation was not boding well with Reid and the man was exhibiting rather unsub-like tenancies. A murderer? Perhaps though Reid didn't think it all too likely, not at this present point in time if the male still required the alcohol to help him along. Rape? Kidnapping? Both exceedingly likely, however.

Despite the fact that if Reid so much as raised his voice he would gain not only the attention of the bartender and bouncers, but he would also alert five other very armed and dangerous FBI agents, the thought never once crossed his mind to make a scene. Instead he was already trying to concoct a subtle way to escape the situation, one that avoided drawing attention to himself and troubling the people around him.

The male before Reid licked his lips, excitement seeming to flash across his eyes. His grip tightened and Reid had to swallow down his yelp of pain; he was now quite positive that there would be bruises. "Well?" the man pushed, spinning Reid around to face him, a sloppy grin spread from ear to ear. "Aren't you going to show me your 'or else?'"

"I never said 'or else,'" Reid growled through his teeth.

"But it was implied sugar. Come on baby, show me what you got. No? Oh, so you're just a little tease then, aren't you? Playing hard to get," he mused, his smile turning into a sneer that made Reid's skin crawl.

Before Reid could respond, the man grabbed him by the back of his head and jerked him forward. To Reid's utter horror, the other crushed their lips together. Reid fought to jerk back but the fingers now entangled within his brown locks and the nails digging into his neck and scalp prevented Reid from getting too far. If anything, his struggles only seemed to encourage the man who roughly shoved the thin male back against the counter to awkwardly pin Reid's arms as he continued to assault the profiler's lips.

As Reid felt a tongue push insistently against his lips, he swore that if it came into his mouth, he'd bite the muscle off. He never got the chance, however, as it would seem that Hotch's manners dictated that he wasn't above a drunken brawl; before Red even knew what was happening Hotch was very much forcibly removing the male from his position against his subordinate. Of course, Hotch's act of heroism was both a good and bad thing. A good thing because, well hey, Reid hadn't exactly been planning on taking the unsub in the making home with him. So thank you Mister Boss Man for that, but well, it was bad because the drunk's fingers were still very much holding onto Reid's hair… which meant that when Hotch damn near tackled the male off the stool, Reid was dragged along for the ride and boy did that hurt.

Reid cried out as he was ripped into the fray, hands instantly shooting up to try and pry himself free, clawing at the skin that he came into contact with. He wasn't exactly sure how he or his long hair managed to get free but a few moments later and he was able to stumble back to observe the scene that was unfolding in front of him. Hotch, his stoic, never out of his suit and tie section chief, had the man on the floor and was straddling him as he repeatedly rained blows down upon the man. Red was stunned. He just stood there and stared.

Thankfully it would seem that someone had managed to retain enough brain cells to react; Morgan lunged forward (from where, Reid hadn't the faintest idea). Except, instead of pulling the two males apart like Reid would have hoped, Morgan seemed bound and determined to help his superior out.

"Hotch! Morgan! Stop!" Reid tried yelling but none of the three males seemed to be paying him any attention at this point, far too busy with trying to gain the upper hand. Poor guy never stood a chance; as if Morgan or Hotch wouldn't have been formidable enough on their own.

And then the bouncers were finally stepping into the fight as well as Rossi strangely enough. Rossi, however, proved himself to be vital; as the bouncers struggled to contain Hotch and the man who seemed hell bent on ripping each other apart, Rossi quickly went to subdue Morgan in a less physical manner.

There were growls of, "What's going on here?" from Rossi, narrowing his eyes as he stood in the way of Morgan and the men.

"Hell if I know but if that guy pissed off Hotch that much then it must have been bad," was Morgan's retort, shifting as if he were going to try and get around Rossi, but Reid stopped paying attention to them and his gaze instead focusing on Hotch whom was fighting against the bouncers. It wasn't long at all before the other FBI agents made their way over, not quite understanding just what had happened, but they were quick to take the enraged Hotch's side. After all, they all shared Morgan's notion that to set Hotch off, even if he was absurdly drunk, it couldn't have just been nothing.

After much fussing and yelling and general confusion, the group of FBI agents found themselves removed from the bar but at least the bouncers had had enough sense to escort the man out the back way to avoid the fight being continued in front of the establishment.

As they stood there, Hotch was still fuming, pacing in a manner that made the rest of the team weary to approach him. They exchanged glances, each silently inquiring of each other just what had transpired but no one besides Reid and Hotch seemed aware of the circumstances and Reid refused to meet their gaze. Finally, unable to take it anymore, Reid moved towards Hotch.

Hesitantly, he interjected himself in his boss' path, hands nervously tugging at the hem of his own shirt. "Hotch, please, calm down," Reid tried gently, unsure of what to say. To see Hotch so… angry, so unlike Hotch, it was almost worse than having to deal with that man.

Reid swallowed. And he had been the cause of Hotch's anger.

"Calm down?" Hotch snarled as he stopped in his tracks, a tone that made Reid flinch back. "Reid, what he did, what I'm _sure _he was planning on doing—"

"I know," Reid interjected hurriedly as it would seem that Hotch was the only one who had witnessed just what had taken place, and well, quite frankly, Reid had no interest in anyone else finding out. As if the team didn't already baby him enough.

Hotch sighed, closing his eyes as he turned from Reid, running a hand through his hair. At least he had stopped pacing. After a moment of silence passed in which each member of Hotch's team felt terribly uncomfortable and unsure, Hotch opened his eyes, his composure once again having retuned – the perfect poker face buried anything that he may have been feeling, making him all too unreadable. The only signs that anything had taken place out of the ordinary were a slightly ruffled suit, his bloody knuckles and a bruise already starting to form on the male's jaw. Reid wasn't sure whether or not this made him feel better.

Someone behind them – maybe it had been JJ? – cleared his or her throat, a gesture that seemed to remind Hotch that they were not alone.

"You walked here, Reid?" Hotch finally asked though it really sounded more like a statement than a question if you asked Reid. Nonetheless, the younger male nodded, eyes slowly falling to the ground. He had always found meeting Hotch's gaze incredibly hard, but right now it was entirely impossible. "And you're sober?" Another nod though Reid was surprised to find Hotch's keys suddenly in his hands. "Then you'll drive. I trust the rest of you are sober enough to take yourselves home or at least responsible enough to call a cab?"

"Hotch, what—" Morgan started though Hotch abruptly cut him off without even the faintest sign of remorse.

"Not now," and no one dared protest, the group once again falling into an uncomfortable silence that was only broken when Hotch spoke again. "Reid, get in the car. I will see the rest of you Monday." Obediently, and with Hotch's guiding hand on his shoulder, Reid made his way over towards where Hotch had parked and climbed into the driver's seat while the older male went around the vehicle to get in the passenger side.

Reid didn't know why he was so nervous. After all, Hotch was clearly beyond belligerently drunk. There was no other way to explain Hotch's complete lack of rationality in the bar… And Hotch was just being responsible by having someone sober drive him home.

Reid swallowed. Then again, Hotch did seem awfully mad. He was probably going to yell. He couldn't help but wince at that thought. Reid hated being yelled at, but he supposed he deserved it after allowing that mess to happen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Criminal Minds related and the base of this story belongs to RoseLaurel.**

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and all that fun other stuff. Makes me very happy. I'm thinking about writing a story for Valentine's Day as cliché as it may be. I can't decide on a pairing though. Any thoughts?

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Most of the drive was spent in terribly uncomfortable and awkward silence. Sure, Hotch issued the required directions every now and then but other than that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Hotch wouldn't even look at Reid, instead the older male's dark gaze was focused out of his window, staring at the things they passed by though Reid got the distinct impression that Hotch wasn't really looking. While Hotch no longer seemed quite so livid, the other male's form was tensed, his jaw tight. Hotch was still very much upset.

Reid shifted, practically squirming in his seat, eyes flickering towards Hotch every few moments as he waited. At this point, he didn't really care _what _he was waiting for – Hotch yelling at him, Hotch telling him that he was pathetic or socially inept for allowing such a thing to happen in the first place, Hotch berating him, the world ending... all greatly preferred to this cold silence that had settled in between them. The air was so thick that Reid wondered absentmindedly if he'd be able to cut it with a knife like in those children's cartoons.

Reid swallowed, allowing his eyes to return to the road. After all, the last thing he needed was to add totaling his boss' car to the tally of the evening. Faintly he wondered how he was supposed to get home from Hotch's house… after all, they lived in completely polar opposite directions. Reid supposed that he could walk and maybe catch one of the late busses. After all, he couldn't take Hotch's car or ask Hotch to drive considering his intoxicated state.

But, as Reid thought about it and as his gaze drifted back towards Hotch, Reid couldn't help but notice that the other male had none of the tale tell signs that he was been drinking; Hotch's eyes seemed completely normal, he didn't smell of alcohol, he had moved with perfect stability, not even the faintest hint of a slur to his voice…

Gingerly Reid chewed at his bottom lip. Really, the only thing that had led Reid to originally suspect that Hotch had been drunk was the fact that the other had attacked the man in a fit of rage, something so incredibly unHotch that it was baffling. But, there was the fact that Hotch had asked, well more like demanded really, that Reid drive him home as a designated driver.

The younger male wasn't allotted any more time to wonder whether or not Hotch was actually intoxicated, however, because Hotch was pointing out his home. Obediently Reid parked where indicated to, his nerves twisting all the more. He had expected the lecture to happen in the car – it seemed to make the most sense. After all, Hotch couldn't seriously be expecting him to come into his house to be yelled at? What about Jack? Wouldn't he be asleep by now?

Reid chanced a glance up towards Hotch though the other male was already removing his seatbelt and getting out of the car. Hotch closed the door of the vehicle with more force than what was required, the slammed door promptly causing Reid to flinch.

And then Reid's door was opening, Hotch standing there, watching his nervous subordinate expectantly. "Well?" Hotch drew, his voice boarding on irritation and really, it wasn't all that friendly at all. Reid's mind instantly jumped back to the way that the man earlier had said the same thing and Reid involuntarily recoiled back, an action that caused Hotch to frown.

Another moment of silence stretched passed them, Reid aware of the fact that he probably looked like a deer caught in a headlight amongst other things. "Hotch," he finally spoke, eyes instantly flickering towards his lap. "I…" but Reid trailed off because what was he? He just wanted to go home, he didn't want to have to hear Hotch's lecture, he didn't want to have to endure the other's… Reid wasn't even sure what it was! It just seemed like Hotch was angry with him and then disappointed and god, Reid was quickly coming to the conclusion that there was not a profiler in the world who would be able to read Hotch. The other male was such a twisted tangle of stoic facades and yet, at the same time, emotions. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

But Reid didn't say anything because he wasn't exactly sure. He was just… sorry. For everything he supposed. When he chanced a glance at Hotch's face however, the calculating look Reid found very much said that there was something in specific he was looking for, and Reid didn't have even the faintest idea as to just what that could be.

When it became obvious that Reid had no idea and probably wasn't going to respond, Hotch sighed, his face softening ever so slightly. "Come on Reid." And when Reid gave him a questioning look, the unit chief gave a nod towards the house. "Inside."

"But what about Jack? I don't want wake him—"

"He's with his aunt tonight. Do you really think I would have gone out to a bar if he were at home?" Hotch asked, arching a brow and Reid winced. Of course Hotch wouldn't do that; Hotch would never even consider being such an irresponsible parent.

Seeing no real way out of this, Reid gingerly nodded and slowly climbed out of the car, the older profiler promptly closing the door behind him. Nervously, Reid allowed the other to take the lead up the pathway and dutifully trailed behind, wringing his hands as his eyes stared hard down at the concrete path. The fact that he wasn't really watching where he was going was the reason why he almost ran into his superior, though at last moment, Reid managed to avoid the collusion that would have probably only served to make Hotch madder. Already, Reid could see that the male's poker face was once again slipping, resuming that previous state of turmoil it had held in front of the bar.

Absentmindedly Reid wondered if Hotch would hit him like he had hit that man at the bar or like how Hotch had wanted to hit Chester Hardwick.

But Hotch was his boss right? Hotch would never do something like that. The other male was nothing if not professional. Then again, the fact that Reid was standing out in front of Hotch's house didn't exactly scream professional. Maybe… maybe Hotch was slipping. Reid swallowed, ashamed at doubting his boss but well, after Haley's death, Hotch had never really been the same. Of course, how could he be expected to be the same? What had happened –

Hotch cleared his throat causing Reid to look up at him, blinking at surprise. "Hmm?" he asked somewhat dimly.

"My key ring has both my car keys and my house keys," Hotch stated almost patiently, as if he were talking to a child.

This made Reid promptly flush in embarrassment as he muttered a soft, "Oh," and promptly handed over the object in question.

Hotch took they keys without comment, instead turning back to his door to unlock it before moving inside. The male absentmindedly pulled off his coat and hung it up, not seeming to pay too much attention to the younger male which suited Reid just fine. Reid direly wished that he could just disappear. He simply stood in the entryway after closing the door behind him, nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes flickering around.

"Shoes off please," Hotch stated absentmindedly as he removed his own. Slowly, Reid complied and when he glanced up, Hotch was watching him. "Have you figured out what you're sorry about yet?"

Reid swallowed before offering a small nod.

"Oh?"

"I'm sorry… for everything. I mean, I got us kicked out of the bar and ruined the night for the team… and you're," Reid paused, deciding that accusing an angry man of being well, _angry_ wasn't always the best thing to do so he searched for a substitute, "_bleeding_. Because of me."

Apparently, that was also the wrong thing to say because there was that look of anger again. Instantly Reid shrunk back. Handling angry unsubs or even aggressive less than savory characters at the bar were one thing but this was entirely different. This was Hotch.

"Because of you?" the older male repeated as he took a step forward, eyes flashing dangerously. Reid couldn't help it, he took a step backwards only to find himself against the recently closed door. "That's what you're sorry about? You're sorry because some creep decided to paw at you?"

"Uh… yes. Hotch, I—"

"I can't believe that after all these years, you're still thinking like this! Damnit Reid, what is the matter with you?" Hotch demanded and Reid became aware of the fact that his superior had closed the distance between them.

But at Hotch's words, Reid faltered, blinking, his mind reeling as he attempted to grasp just what the other was attempting to say. Thinking like _this_? Like what? And there was nothing wrong with the way that Reid thought! The younger male narrowed his eyes ever so faintly. "I don't understand," he stated quietly. "I mean, I really am sorry that I ruined the evening for everyone but you didn't have to do what you did either. I was perfectly fine."

"You call being pinned against the counter of a bar and _molested_ fine?" Hotch snarled.

Reid hesitated but only for a moment as he found that his temper too was beginning to rise. "No I do not. Such behavior is entirely unacceptable, but I was perfectly able to handle the situation by myself. The situation could have been diffused in a manner that did not require a brutal and unnecessary show of force. I mean really, Hotch, what do you think would have happened if they had actually called the police on us? Morgan and yourself could have spent the night in jail. Do you have any idea the sort of repercussions that would have had on both of your careers? And all because your damn alpha male persona—"

"Maybe I didn't handle the situation the best, but _you _certainly weren't doing anything about it!"

"Excuse me? Do you think I was just going to tolerate that? That I'm just some sort of hapless victim? I'm not some kid, Hotch. I am a fully trained FBI agent, even if you and everyone else on the team still can't see that, it's what I am."

Hotch paused for a moment and Reid suddenly became aware of the fact that he had not just raised his voice to the older male but had actually yelled. But, surprisingly, Reid couldn't bring himself to care. Of course, he knew logically that he would be horrified with himself later, but at present moment? Damn it, Hotch was asking for it.

"We don't see you like that," Hotch finally stated softly at which point Reid rolled his eyes.

"We both know that that's a lie. I'm left at the police station during raids and if I do go, you and Morgan are both quick to place me at the back, as far away from danger as possible. Morgan even calls me kid. And tonight? You clearly don't think that I would have been able to take care of it by myself."

Hotch hit the door just behind Reid, causing the other to once again flinch. "Damn it Reid, that's just it! Do you even hear yourself? 'By yourself.' It's always _by yourself_ when there's no need for it to be." Hotch reached forward, cupping Reid's jaw, forcing the younger male to look up at him. "We, the team, everyone, are here for you. We are always here for you. _I_ am always here for you. And you… you don't even trust us."

"That's not true," Reid protested, sounding outraged. "I trust you all with my life. When we're out on the field, I always trust you guys to come through—"

"I'm not talking about out on the field Reid. I'm not talking about _with _your life. I'm talking about _in _your life. Tonight, all you had to do was yell and we all would have been there for you."

"But there was no need—"

"Yes there was. Even if you could have handled the situation on your own, there was no need for you to."

Reid swallowed. "But you guys were having a good time—"

"And how awful do you think we all feel now knowing that while we were having a good time, something like that was happening to you? How would you feel if someone did that to JJ or Garcia while you were right there and you could have stopped it? But instead of letting you know so that you could do something, they didn't want to bother you?"

"That's different."

"How could that possibly be different? Is it different because they're woman and you're not? Well alright, what about if it had been Morgan in that situation? Or even myself? Wouldn't you want to stop someone from hurting me?"

"That wouldn't happen to either of you," Reid replied, eyes shifting towards the floor. It would never happen because Hotch and Morgan were fully capable of defending themselves as proven time and time again. Hotch and Morgan weren't weak like him.

"Why not? After all, there are plenty of men out there that could overpower either of us so it's perfectly plausible or is that simply a remark that you do not think that I am attractive enough to—"

"What? No, of course not!"

"Then the situation is plausible as I said before. The only thing I substituted was a name and don't you even consider telling me that we are more important than you because that would be the biggest lie I have ever heard. You are apart of this 'we,' Reid."

Reid swallowed, stiffening. "I can handle myself. I didn't need help."

Hotch sighed, finally releasing the other from his grasp. "It doesn't matter if you need the help or not. We want to help. _I _want to help. I want to be there for you. I want you to know that you can always come to me without fear of judgment. I am here for you."

"Because you really helped tonight by making that man's face concave," was Reid's retort before he could manage to stifle it and instantly he winced as he watched anguish cross Hotch's face. Immediately Reid tried back tracking, "Hotch, I'm sorry… You were right, I should have asked for help and I—"

"And you don't believe that. You're simply saying that," Hotch replied, his voice even but tight, the male showing absolutely no remorse for how often he had cut the younger profiler off midsentence that evening. The silence stretch between them once more before Hotch was finally pulling back and away from the younger male.

"You don't really believe that," the unit chief repeated, as if the very thought brought him nothing but pain, "but I'll make sure that one day, you do believe it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Criminal Minds related and the base of this story belongs to RoseLaurel.**

A great big thank you to everyone who reviewed, alerted, favorited, and all that other fun stuff. I really appreciate it**. **Especially 68luvcarter who has been wonderful enough to review everything. You rock Reid's mismatched socks.

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"You don't have to do this, you know. This isn't exactly the first time that I've bled."

The younger male shrugged absentmindedly though as his gaze flickered up towards Hotch, he detected a hint of dark humor tugging at the corners of Hotch's mouth. Reid decided instantly that he really didn't much care for that look; it reminded him too much of all the close calls the older male had suffered, of how often Reid had watched his superior being loaded into a gurney or laying amongst the stark white sheets of a hospital bed.

"I'm sorry," Reid murmured softly, ducking his head to resume cleaning Hotch's knuckles with delicate care.

"Don't apologize," Hotch replied abruptly and even though Reid wasn't looking, he knew full well that the older male was glaring at him.

"But—"

"But nothing," the unit chief cut in tersely. As Reid looked ready to apologize for apologizing, Hotch growled, "Reid, I'm going to start an apology jar for you if you don't knock that off."

Bewildered not only by the rather slang-like phrasing of Hotch's words but also by an _apology jar_, Reid couldn't help but arch a brow and ask, "Excuse me?"

Hotch matched his gaze and Reid got the very distinct impression that this was the same tone and body language that Hotch used when he scolded Jack. "Like a swear jar." When Reid still sowed no sign of understanding, he continued, "Every time you needlessly apologize, you have to put a quarter into a jar."

"… A quarter?" Reid replied dumbly, still not seeming to fully grasp the concept.

"Generally that's what it is, yes but for you I would say three dollars and fifty-seven cents each time."

Reid's eyebrows once again shot up as he studied his boss incredulously. "That is an oddly specific number."

"Is that not the exact amount that your favorite cup of coffee is? Three dollars and forty cents and then seventeen cents in sales tax."

If Hotch's face hadn't been so dead set, Reid might have laughed aloud at the obscurity of this. As it were, however, as Reid's eyes rapidly swept across the other, the younger profiler was quickly becoming aware of the fact that Hotch was being entirely seriously.

And just how, pray tell, did Hotch know the exact pricing of Reid's preferred caffeinated drink? But Reid passed over that in favor of addressing the real issue.

"Hotch, you really can't expect me to comply to something as demeaning as an _apology jar_. I mean, not only does it bare a strong resemblance to how one trains a child, but there is absolutely nothing wrong with apologizing. The mortality that our society has instilled upon us since birth is that in order to function as a single unit we must—"

Not exactly wanting the lecture of social norms from someone like Reid, Hotch interrupted once more, "It's exactly what you need, Reid. Tomorrow, you will have an apology jar and I fully expect you to adhere to it."

"But you can't—"

"I can and I will. I am your boss, Reid."

Reid faintly wondered if he should point out how this was not only a breach of professionalism but an extreme abuse of power, but then his gaze once again came to rest on Hotch's bruising jaw where the man from the bar had gotten in a lucky punch. Instantly his mouth closed, thoughts of arguing promptly fading away. After all, this was his fault, wasn't it? Without thought, Reid reached out to gently brush his fingertips across the wound, eyes studying and focusing on the discolouration and faint swelling. Undoubtedly, the different hues would be forever in his mind. Reid wondered if he'd ever be able to picture Hotch again in his mind without thinking about him like this.

Reid swallowed. God, what would Jack think when he saw his father like this? How could he have let this happen? But he forced down the need to apologize once more for the whole mess, knowing that he couldn't risk one of his many daily cups of coffee. Reid wasn't sure just what 'needlessly' entailed, but, knowing Hotch, it was a very wide range that would not be completely unbiased.

As Hotch cleared his throat after a few moments passed, Reid's eyes widened a considerable amount, realizing that his fingers were still against the older male's cheek. Abruptly the young genius yanked himself backwards, staring at Hotch as he attempted to sputter, "Hotch, I didn't, oh jeeze, I'm sorry, I _really _didn't mean—"

"I expect three dollars and fifty-seven cents on my desk tomorrow morning in exact change," Hotch cut in.

Mutely, Reid nodded. At least Hotch didn't seem too upset over the physical contact. If anything, the older male seemed almost… curious? Unsure?

"The peroxide Reid," Hotch reminded patiently, gesturing to his knuckles that still very much needed attending.

"Uh, right, let me just, uh, take care of that…"

By the time that Reid had finished bandaging up his boss, Reid was just slightly exhausted though it was more so due to the fact that he already owed Hotch ten dollars and seventy-one cents than anything else. Of course, Reid was still a firm believer that spilling peroxide on Hotch's nice slacks did in fact warrant an apology. He would undoubtedly argue that one in the morning but right now? Not so much. While Reid was sluggish at best, Hotch seemed wide awake and perfectly alert, certainly not ideal conditions for negotiating the sacrifice of his coffee. Reid absentmindedly wondered if this was perhaps Hotch's way of attempting to break him of his caffeine addiction under the elaborate farce that Reid needed to stop apologizing.

As if apologizing was actually a valid problem. If anything, more people should apologize. Perhaps if they did, human interaction would be a more positive –

"Reid," Hotch drew, breaking up the younger male's thought process as he walked back into the living room where Reid sat on the couch.

"Hmm?" Gingerly Reid rubbed at his eyes, already beginning to dread the journey home. Did the buses in this area even run this late?

"Do you want to borrow some pants?"

Reid rapidly blinked, his attention focusing back on Hotch. It was at that point in time that Reid noticed Hotch had changed from his slightly bloodied suit into a pair of sweats and a grey FBI t-shirt. "What?"

And was Hotch really barefoot? Toes visible and all? Despite himself, Reid couldn't help but grin at the simple humor of seeing his uptight boss in his sleepwear.

"To sleep in?" Hotch supplied, frowning ever so faintly at as he too observed Reid though his face reflected more concern than anything else. Reid always seemed so small. Even though Reid was tall, he always seemed to curl up on himself, as if trying to make himself disappear. There Reid was, sitting on a large sofa that he had all to himself, that he could sprawl across and there would still be plenty of room left over. And yet, despite all of this, Reid had pushed himself into the farthest corner, not even taking up a full cushion as he hunched over ever so faintly, slouching, messenger bag settled in his lap as if his possessions didn't even deserve a spot of their own be it on the cushion or the floor. Hell, Jack took up more room than the fully grown male before Hotch.

The whole team knew about the younger male's insecurities – who could really blame him after a childhood like his? – but Hotch couldn't help but wonder just how deep that unconscious wish to disappear ran. Reid often showed a very distinct lack of concern for his own wellbeing. Not just earlier that evening, not even just on the field; it was in everything that Reid did.

"Oh, um… what?"

Hotch sighed, shaking his head. "I'm too tired to drive you home tonight, but I unfortunately do need my vehicle tomorrow. So, you'll stay the night and I'll drop you off tomorrow before work."

Reid's gaze flickered down towards the ground, his hands shifting nervously in his lap. "Ah, no, it's alright. Really Hotch, I can—"

"What? Walk? Reid, this is Virginia, in the middle of winter. Just because there isn't snow on the ground doesn't mean that it isn't well below freezing." Sometimes, Hotch wondered if the male in front of him actually had an IQ higher than Einstein because the simplest things in the world completely eluded him.

Reid swallowed and murmured an, "Oh. Right." He couldn't really say that he had forgotten because well, he _hadn't_ – the average low for that state of Virginia in the month of November was thirty-five point four degrees Fahrenheit and presently it was at least ten degrees colder than that –but he also hadn't wanted to impose on his boss of all people.

"Is that a yes?" While his clothes were certain to completely swallow Reid's small frame, Hotch couldn't imagine that sweater vests and ties were the most comfortable to sleep in. When Reid slowly nodded, Hotch disappeared from the room undoubtedly to collect the clothing. Reid squirmed nervously, rubbing at his arms absentmindedly. As if this night hadn't been weird enough without the prospect of sleeping on Hotch's couch. Morgan's, sure, it probably still would have been weird but well, it would be expected for him to eventually sleep on his best friend's couch, but…

Reid blinked in rapid surprise as there were suddenly articles of clothing covering his head. He quirked a brow as he removed the pants from their landing pad, tilting his head as he looked over towards the culprit.

"I thought you would catch them," Hotch explained with a simple one-sided shrug.

"… Have you even met me, Hotch?"

"You sell yourself short," was Hotch's dismissive reply. He turned once more, moving to head through the doorway. "Come on, you can sleep in the guest room."

"No couch?"

Hotch paused, glancing back towards Reid with confusion. "Would you prefer the couch?"

"Well, no, but I didn't want to be any more of an inconvenience than I already was."

"You sleeping in the guest room is hardly an inconvenience Reid." Hotch turned, watching the other. "Why would you think otherwise?" he asked patiently.

Reid faltered. "I don't know," he admittedly somewhat meekly.

"You agree that you're a logical person, yes?" A small nod. "Then, logically, as a house guest, would there be any difference in burden to your host if you slept in an already made room designed for the purpose of guests as opposed to the couch?"

Reid gingerly chewed at his lip, faltering for a moment. "Well, no, I suppose not." Reid paused, eyeing Hotch almost wearily. "Is this going to become a common occurrence?"

"What? Me pointing out how ridiculous your reasoning and need for self punishment can be?" Hotch replied bluntly. "Yes, it is going to be a continuous thing from this point in time." The unit chief moved forward, pausing in front of where the other still remained seated. "I'm going to walk you through every step if that's what I need to do. Every _single_ step, holding your hand, Spencer."

And with that, Hotch reached down, gently taking a hold of the other's hand and pulling him to a stand. Reid instantly felt a flush rise to his cheeks at the contact, but if Hotch saw Reid's reaction to either the contact or the use of his first name, he certainly didn't show it. Instead he turned and led Reid down the hallway, his larger and gun calloused hand not releasing Reid's for a moment.

It felt nice, Reid couldn't help but notice. While he usually found all forms of physical contact to be uncomfortable, awkward, and terribly intrusive, this, he decided, was alright. Maybe it was because he didn't just feel the physical link they were presently sharing but rather Hotch's insistent promise that he was there for him, the promise that he wasn't going to leave him.

Reid swallowed as he continued to faithfully follow Hotch through the other's home.

He also didn't think that his name had ever sounded so nice before either.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Criminal Minds related and the base of this story belongs to RoseLaurel.**

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Reid was less than enthused when he was awoken only a few hours later. The male grumbled and turned over, trying to shift away from the insistent hand on his shoulder that seemed hell bent on getting him up. For the love of all things hot and caffeinated, his alarm hadn't even gone off yet!

"Go 'way, Morgan," he half grumbled, half groaned as he curled up all the more, burying himself beneath the terribly warm quilt.

The hand seemed to falter for a moment – one tiny, bright moment where Reid dared to hope that he would get another hour or, you know, day of much needed sleep – before there was a confused and almost jealous echo of, "Morgan?" from an individual that certainly sounded nothing like Morgan.

At that, Reid shot straight up in bed, in the process nearly cracking heads with his hovering, fully dressed and freshly shaved boss. "Hotch," Reid sputtered, the surprise in his voice more than just a little noticeable. "What're you doing – Oh. Right." And the younger male promptly flushed in embarrassment at the realization that he was not only at Hotch's house but in his guest bed as well. Apparently an eidetic memory did not always work first thing in the morning.

Reid groaned again before rubbing at his eyes in a futile attempt to make himself more alert. No such luck.

But as he looked back up towards Hotch, Reid couldn't help but notice the other's slightly raised brow, as if he were questioning something. Was Reid's bed hair really all that bad? Or…? Oh, right. Morgan. Generally Reid was under the impression that it was only really during more intimate settings that one wasn't supposed to call out another's name, but judging from Hotch's inquiring gaze, apparently being woken up first thing in the morning also qualified.

"Ah, Hotch, it's just that the only person who ever wakes me up is Morgan," Reid was quick to try and explain, not quite sure why it would matter any to either of them, but Hotch's brow instantly went higher, the line of his jaw becoming harder at the attempt. "I mean, you know, when we share hotel rooms and stuff. I just assumed, you know, that being woken up it would be him or something…"

Reid winced. Really? 'Stuff?' Three PHDs and all he could think to say was _stuff_?

"You have nothing to explain, Reid. I need to get Jack from his aunt's so that he can get ready for school. I'll drop you off along the way."

Gingerly Reid nodded, eyes watching Hotch's retreating back. Perhaps it hadn't been jealousy after all, Reid mused. It could have simply been the misinterpretation of his own sleep deprived mind. One thing was for certain… Reid needed coffee.

Not even twenty minutes later and Reid sat in the passenger seat of Hotch's car, still fully clad in the older profiler's much too big sweat pants and some obscure band t-shirt that Reid never even heard of. He glanced towards Hotch out of the corner of his eye, noting that the other seem perfectly at ease, or well, as at ease as SSA Hotchner got. There were a number of questions Reid was practically overflowing with, all very much desiring answers, but he knew that he would have to tread at least somewhat lightly. Maybe it would be best to start off slow. It wasn't that Hotch seemed closed off at present moment, but Reid couldn't help but feel just slightly weary.

"Hotch," Reid began softly as his eyes diverted towards his window.

"Hmm?"

"It just sort of strikes me as a little… strange that you would know the exact price of my coffee," Reid continued after a moment, unable to directly inquire the source of Hotch's knowledge.

A silence quickly set in between the two of them to the point where Reid absentmindedly wondered whether or not Hotch had even heard him. It wouldn't be the first time that someone had ignored him after all. Finally, Reid turned back towards the other, but predictably so, Hotch didn't give anything away.

Reid was just about to abandon the notion of gaining any sort of insight when Hotch finally replied, "How many times have I had to sneak you coffee while you were in the hospital?"

Reid couldn't help but smile at the thought. Yes, generally his charge nurse cut him off after cup number three which left a rather distraught and snarky Reid. It was always in everyone's best interest to smuggle coffee in when they visited a hospitalized boy genius.

"Twenty-seven times, but even so, to remember down to the last cent?" Reid asked somewhat playfully.

Hotch paused, meeting Reid's gaze though it only lasted a moment before it once again returned to the road. "You don't think that I wouldn't remember every single detail of every one of your hospitalizations?"

The humor quickly dissolved from Reid's face only to be replaced by a deep frown. "What do you mean?" Reid swallowed finding that his throat was suddenly dry.

"I mean that every single person remembers in vivid detail that worst moments of their life."

"Morgan said something like that once," Reid stated quietly, unable to think of any other response.

"It's true."

Reid sunk back in his seat with a new sense of guilt. He had never really imagined that such things would actually follow Hotch like that.

A moment later, however, and Hotch gently reached out and placed his hand on Reid's knee in an almost reassuring manner. "Reid, I didn't tell you that to make you feel bad," he stated quietly, giving said knee a gentle squeeze.

"I know," was the quiet response.

"I told you that because I want you to now that you matter to me."

"Hotch, I do know that."

"What about you do you think matters to me?"

Reid paused, considering. This was definitely another one of those 'there is a right answer and there is a wrong answer' sort of question that Reid had hoped would dissolve as the alcohol left Hotch's system. "Well, you have said that I am your resident expert on everything. My memory and my ability to read twenty thousand words per minute have both proven useful on more than one occasion, especially considering both save time which is often invaluable to us. And my ability to… and that's now what you're looking for, is it?" Reid asked upon noting the look Hotch was giving him.

"While those traits have been true assets to the team, yes, they aren't _you _Reid. I care about you, not your ability to complete files at an inhuman pace. If you were to suddenly start matching your socks, I would be more distraught _than_ if you were to suddenly lose a hundred IQ points."

"Actually short of brain damage caused by—" Reid started, but Hotch was quick to interject.

"Reid, I am not interested in the possible causes of how one can lose IQ points. That wasn't my point," Hotch chided causing the younger male to sulk for a moment.

As Hotch pulled up to Reid's loft, Reid dutifully began to gather his bag and clothes from the day before. "I'll wash these and get them back to you as soon as I can," Reid stated absentmindedly, gesturing to the clothes he was still wearing.

"No rush," Hotch replied with a dismissive wave. As Reid opened the door to get out, Hotch called, "And Reid? Remember the ten-something." Ten, seventy-one, Reid's mind instantly supplied without needing any prompting.

Reid couldn't help but wince ever so slightly, however. Really? Sober Hotch was going to make good on drunk Hotch's threats? Reid gingerly chewed at his bottom lip, but in the end he decided that Hotch must have simply been attempting to tease Reid. It wouldn't be the first time that Reid hadn't understood a joke.

Reid was entirely unsurprised to find himself arriving at the BAU with no Hotch in sight what with the other having said he needed to get Jack. It did mean, however, that Reid was left on his own to fend off the interrogation of his insistent coworkers. While some of them at least attempted subtleties – _you doing okay, Reid? _or _Boy, that was some night. Not even really sure all that happened you know… _–Morgan was not known for his tact.

"So what happened last night, pretty boy?" Morgan inquired as he plopped down on Reid's desk, successfully blocking the younger male from his workload.

Reid couldn't help but notice Morgan's attempt to instill a sense of familiarity and the reminder of friendship between the two of them by using the nickname, a trick that was undoubtedly supposed to make Reid more at ease. More at ease meant that he was more likely to talk to the other. By Morgan sitting on the desk before Reid and thus interjecting himself, the older male was proving that he was in control of not only the conversation but of the situation as well. A subtle demand for an answer hidden behind an established sense of a respiratory relationship that would usually work on an almost omega-like personality of someone like Reid. Of course, Reid could see that Morgan wasn't doing any of it on purpose, but he couldn't help but feel just a tad annoyed.

"I don't know what you mean," Reid replied as he scooted his chair back to place a bit of distance between the two of them.

"Hotch. Random Joe getting the snot beat out of him for seemingly no reason. Driving off into the night with fair maiden without a single word leaving the rest of us to scratch our heads and wonder?"

Reid couldn't help but raise a brow. "Did you just refer to Hotch as a fair maiden?"

Morgan scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Well _I _did the driving."

Morgan paused. "Wow… Hotch really must have been more trashed than I originally thought. But that isn't the point, pretty boy. Any of that ring any bells?"

"Yes, I seem to recall that," Reid stated after a moment in what he hoped was an indifferent manner.

Absentmindedly he moved to reach around Morgan to grab one of his many case files that eagerly awaited his attention. Morgan, however, caught a hold of Reid's wrist. Instantly Reid couldn't help but notice just how different the contact was from Hotch. Both were obviously meant to physically direct him, to control, but Morgan's, while much more familiar, was intrusive and unwelcomed. Reid had the distinct desire to recoil which made very little sense. Humans craved the familiar, unrationally so to the point where it was could prove rather dangerous – after all, patterns were a sociopath's wet dream because they provided the perfect opportunities. So why would he want to pull from Morgan and yet not Hotch?

Reid swallowed. At least Morgan seemed to pick up on how uncomfortable he was making Reid and released his hold.

"Reid?" Morgan pressed again, arching a brow. "You 'recall?' Don't give me that Mister Eidetic Memory."

"Actually, my eidetic memory—"

"Reid, what happened?" And Reid could tell that Morgan was beginning to lose his patients.

"Would you like to also know what will happen if you do not remove yourself from the federally issued desk of Dr. Reid and finish your paperwork in due time, Supervisory Special Agent Morgan?" Hotch drew as he moved past the desk in question, heading towards his office.

Perhaps the statement would have been more effective if it weren't for the jar tucked beneath his arm. The jar's middle was wrapped in white paper littered with brightly coloured drawings and doodles, obviously courteous of one Jack Hotchner. To Reid's utter horror, in big, bold, block letters were the words, _Reid's Apology Jar_. And as if to further rub salt into the festering and humiliating wound, there was a steaming cup of coffee with a big red x through it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Criminal Minds related and the base of this story belongs to RoseLaurel.**

Thank you to everyone that reviewed and the like. It makes me abundantly happy, you don't even know. As always, all feedback is welcomed, even the not so nice kind.

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Despite his clear want to figure out just what had happened, Morgan had seemed to decide that risking the wraith of his boss really wasn't worth it. So, the male had sulked back to his desk after the extremely red and embarrassed Reid had also refused to explain the apology jar that Hotch had carried into his office. Morgan wasn't happy, that much was obvious, and by noon Reid could tell that the other was itching to take another stab at the matter. Morgan kept shooting glances towards Reid or, more specifically, Reid's mug. Reid's coffee was running dangerously low at this point in time, something Reid knew that Morgan had very much calculated and was planning on. Morgan was just laying in wake, waiting and biding his time in an almost unsub-like manner. He knew that Reid was nothing without his caffeine. He knew that all he needed to do was wait until Reid could no longer stand it and was forced to go into the break room for a refill.

Already Reid had attempted the whole notion of safety in numbers, moving to follow JJ into the break room, but apparently even JJ wanted to know what was going on because the second she caught wind of his plan, she had bee lined for the ladies' room instead to leave Reid vulnerable to Morgan once more. Reid had just barely managed to dodge back to his desk in time to avoid being cornered. The whole team was against him. Really, they were. Reid was willing to wager that they even had Garcia in her office trying to hack some sort of security feed from the bar or something. The whole matter was absolutely awful and left a very distraught Reid to say the least.

Reid practically squirmed in his seat as it became more and more apparent that Morgan had every intention of waiting this one out. He supposed that it said something about Morgan's character – the whole being so bullheaded that he didn't know how to let things go. Usually it was a wonderful trait that was indispensible to the team. After all, who was it that was usually the one chasing down an unsub despite ridiculous conditions like him being on foot and the unsub being on a train or something? Hell, Morgan was likely to try and outrun a charging rhino or something if it meant catching an unsub.

But right at this moment? Not such a great trait.

The young genius ground his teeth in annoyance. He was just going to have to bite the bullet and do it. After all, Morgan was going to corner him one way or another and this whole tentative sip of the coffee thing sure as hell wasn't cutting it. He was already two cups behind his usual regiment and all because of Morgan. With the thought that it was simply better to get this over with, Reid moved to his feet, mug held dutifully in hand, and god, if Morgan didn't look as smug as a cat who had just gotten a bowl full of cream. Reid wavered for a moment before reminding himself that there was his coffee and thus his sanity on the line. He would simply have to resort to the traditional FBI response of, 'No comment.'

_But,_ the small voice in the back of his head protested, _this is Morgan we're talking about._

Swallowing, Reid steeled himself and took a step forward. After all, why should he be so fearful?He hadn't really done anything wrong, or at least that was what Hotch had been insisting upon, right?

But Reid knew that if Morgan were to find out, he would be furious to put it politely. Perhaps even disgusted that Hotch had needed to come to his rescue, even though Reid hadn't asked him to.

Reid was about halfway towards the break room when he noted Morgan chugging the remainders of his own coffee and promptly rising to follow him. Before either one of them could make it, however, Hotch was brushing past, nose buried in a case file. Without even looking at either agent, he declared an absentminded, "Reid, get your bag." The 'follow me' was strongly implied.

Reid could have whimpered. Yes, Hotch was once again saving him, something Morgan looked none too thrilled about, but this also meant that Reid was still not going to get his coffee. While some might argue that he could get the coffee and then his bag and _then_ follow Hotch, but the authority in the older male's tone had been abundantly clear and not only left no room for protest but no room for delay either.

With a sigh, Reid hurriedly changed course to head back to his desk, discarding the mug in favor of his slightly tattered messenger bag. Reid promptly moved after Hotch who stood waiting for the elevator, eyes still trained on the file.

Not wanting to read over the older male's shoulder, Reid asked, "Where are we going?" Reid prayed that Hotch would take pity on him, and maybe, just maybe he would be able to convince the older male to stop for coffee along the way.

"Lunch," Hotch replied without so much as looking up. The elevator doors opened and Hotch moved inside without thought. Reid, however, blinked in rapidly surprise, hesitating just long enough for it to gather the other's attention. Hotch glanced upwards finally, arching a brow before asking, "Well? Aren't you coming?"

Reid slowly nodded and then slipped inside just before the doors closed. "So," he murmured, shifting his weight back and forth on the balls of his heels nervously, "we aren't going for a consult?"

Hotch frowned slightly. "No. Why?"

"Well it's just that we've, uh, never exactly gone to lunch together before, by ourselves at least, and well, usually," more like always really, "whenever you tell me to grab my bag, it's because we're traveling for a case. Since it was only me, I assumed that it was a nearby consult or something."

Hotch gave a one sided shrug, clearly not putting much thought into the matter. "I figured we could both do with a change."

Reid swallowed. "Hotch… if this is about last night, I don't need a babysitter. I'm alright. What happened really didn't affect me like you might think. I can get my own lunch without needing prompting. And I don't—"

"Reid," Hotch interjected in that manner that always made Reid immediately silence himself. "I said we. Not you. I am perfectly aware that you are able to get lunch on your own. I'm sure you can even manage to cut the crust off your own sandwich all by yourself as well, but we both need lunch, one of the drawbacks of being human or so I'm told. So why not have it together?" And then Hotch leaned just a bit closer, enough so that Reid could just barely feel the ghost of the older male's breath against his neck, "Of course, if you'd like, I'd be more than willing to cut your crust for you."

Reid's gaze, that had been everywhere but Hotch, finally flickered over towards his boss, his breath catching in his throat. But Hotch pulled back a moment later and offered Reid an ever so faint smile. What else could Reid do but offer a grin back? "Did you know that sandwiches have been around since the Neolithic Era?"

"No, I didn't," Hotch replied, a trace of amusement in his voice.

"Mmhmm, but the first actual written mention of the word was in Edward Gibbon's journal dated November 24, 1762. He observed a number of noblemen partaking in them at the Cocoa Tree which was a gentlemen's gaming club in the eighteen century."

And Hotch merely listened as the younger male rambled on, a gentle and guiding hand placed between the younger male's shoulder blades as Hotch directed the younger profiler through the parking garage and towards his vehicle.

To be honest, Reid was rather surprised when they pulled up to an Italian restaurant. Not because it was Italian, no, but because through the entire ride, Hotch had not once told Reid to be quiet, didn't even send him one of those exasperated, pleading glances his way to shut up. Instead he just let Reid babble on endlessly about obscure sandwich related facts that eventually led into the possible quantum theory that their entire universe was merely within a single piece of yeast on a loaf of bread – Hotch hadn't the faintest idea; he didn't even pretend to understand that one. He had been especially clueless when Reid had started in on the mathematical formula, but Reid couldn't help but notice that even at that point, Hotch was still patient and looked almost engaged in what he was saying. As if he weren't simply ignoring him or attempting to be polite. Hell, Hotch had even poked in a question or two at different intervals of the one sided conversation.

They were seated, menus in hand before Reid finally trailed off, blinking as he studied Hotch who was seemingly reading his menu. When the silence stretched for a few more moments, Hotch glanced up towards the younger male, a faint frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "Something wrong, Reid?"

"Ah, uh, no. It's just that I've been talking since we left and you haven't stopped me…"

"Should I have?" Hotch asked, arching a brow.

"I don't know? Usually everyone," Hotch included but Reid didn't feel the need to specify that, "sort of cuts me off one way or another. Not that I blame you guys or anything, I mean I know that I'm socially awkward and that statistics don't make for the best conversation and that you're really probably not interested in—"

"Reid," Hotch cut off for the first time that afternoon, giving the younger male a sharp look. "You're fine. If you want to talk about string theory or the number of loaves of rye bread that are made every day in the United States, that's fine. We can talk about whatever you'd like."

Reid didn't offer much of a reply, unsure of just what to make of this situation. He did, however, offer a nod and a faint smile, nervously shifting his hands in his lap. Hotch's gaze returned back to the menu before asking, "What're you going to get?"

"Uh, I think the spaghetti with meatballs and the side caesar salad," Reid replied after his gaze flickered down at the menu for the first time.

"Are you going to get parmesan on that?"

"Erm, yes." Reid blinked, shifting in his seat with slight confusion. While he was all fidgety, he couldn't help but notice that Hotch seemed completely at ease, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. When Reid became aware that he was in fact staring, Reid quickly diverted his eyes, trying to focus on anything else. As he scanned the room, he noted that despite the fact that it was the middle of the afternoon, the restaurant was rather dimly lit with the curtains pulled shut as if to give the room the illusion that it was the evening. That in combination with the rather tall wooden backs of the booths that offered quite a bit of seclusion gave an almost intimate setting.

An intimate setting. With Hotch.

Reid swallowed, gaze returning towards the older male who seemed entirely oblivious as to just where Reid's train of thought had led him. Hotch once more glanced up, giving Reid a questioning look but before he had a chance to inquire, their waiter had returned to take their order.

Without missing a beat, Hotch stated an almost absentminded, "Two coffees and if you would bring extra packets of sugar, that would be rather appreciated," as he began gathering up their menus. "He will have the spaghetti with meatballs and a side caeser salad please." A slight pause in which Reid blinked in confusion. "And I will have the lasagna fritta." He passed the menus off to the server before adding, "And could we please get parmesan on the spaghetti?"

"Of course. Will that be all?"

Hotch glanced towards Reid but when the younger male offered no sign that he wanted anything else, the unit chief nodded to the waiter, replying in his usual business-like attitude, "Yes."

Reid leaned back in the booth, eyeing Hotch as he interacted with the waiter, surprised that the older male had actually ordered for him of all things. He shouldn't read into it, he knew that, but how could he not? It was an extremely dominating trait to be perfectly honest, but it wasn't malicious, especially not coming from Hotch. From Hotch it was almost… chivalrous. Archaic, yes, but still chivalrous nonetheless.

"Everything alright?" Hotch inquired. Reid became amply aware of the fact that without a menu or waiter to offer a distraction, the unit chief's attention rested solely on him. Reid swallowed, unsure whether or not he liked it.

"Yeah… everything is fine." Silence settled in between the two of them which meant that Reid was fidgeting rather nervously still, trying to swallow down the statistics that threatened to flow past his lips as a result of his discomfort. Finally, unable to help the tick, Reid blurted out, "Did you know that the tradition behind a man ordering for a lady began in the 1840s? The 1840s was when woman began dining out for pleasure, but it was unthinkable for a well groomed lady of society to be out of the company of a male companion. In fact, it was so improper that many restaurants in that time period wouldn't even admit a woman without her escort. The male companion was the one that would order for the lady who in turn wouldn't even dream of ordering for themselves. The stigma behind that was that it was rather improper for a woman to address a man outside the tight knit of her family and friends."

Wait. Did Reid just compare himself to a woman? His eyes widened as the realization of his own words dawned on him, a faint flush beginning to spread across his face.

But an almost coy smile played across Hotch's lips, the male arching a brow ever so slightly. "Really? I had no idea," he drew, leaning forward just a little bit more.

Reid promptly hung his head, as if trying to hide behind his hair. He was shifting all the more nervously, gingerly chew at his bottom lip. Hotch, however, reached out and placed one of his hands over the other's fidgeting ones. "Reid? Relax. You're shaking the table," Hotch stated lightly.

Reid's gaze immediately dropped, taking in the gun calloused hand that overlaid his own. A hand that didn't immediately recoil from Reid. He slowly nodded, immediately stilling himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Criminal Minds related and the base of this story belongs to RoseLaurel.**

Thank you to everyone that reviewed and the like. Greatly makes me smile. I'd do a heart but apparently fanfiction doesn't let you use the less than symbol. Terribly unfortunate.

Note: As much as I love Hotch/Reid, I can't neglect Morgan. He is one of my favorite characters and is one of Reid's best friends. Since this mostly revolves around Reid, that means there's going to be quite a bit of interaction between Morgan and Reid as well. It might seem frivolous to Hotch's and Reid's relationship, but I personally think that Morgan is very vital to all things Reid. So please, indulge me. XD

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"You've been avoiding Morgan all morning," Hotch offered seemingly offhandedly, but Reid wasn't fooled; Hotch was a very calculated person that very rarely said something without a specific agenda in mind behind it. Most would refer to the trait as manipulative, but all Reid saw was Hotch being concerned though for what Reid hadn't the faintest idea. Maybe Hotch was worried that Reid's dodging of Morgan would effect their jobs?

Reid absentminded looked up from the slice of seven layered triple chocolate cake that rested on the table between them, frowning ever so faintly as he studied the older man. He gingerly took another bite though his eyes never left his boss. Hotch waited though gave no further comment. Hotch didn't even seem all that interested in the cake, Reid couldn't help but notice. They had agreed to split the dessert but already Reid had polished off his own half and had started in on Hotch's side after being assured that it was perfectly alright. Hotch had maybe had three or four bites at best. Maybe—

"Are you done trying to profile me and the cake, Reid?" Hotch asked, and not for the first time Reid sensed an unusual lightness to his boss. Reid did, however, promptly reflect a child who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I'm sorry," Reid quickly went to amend, wincing once more as Hotch arched a brow ever so faintly.

"What is that now?" Hotc drew as he sat back in his seat, looking far too smug for Reid's tastes, "Fourteen, twenty-nine?"

"Fourteen, twenty-eight," Reid murmured in response, hanging his head. Four coffees down the drain. "Hotch, you're really serious about this?"

"Yes, I do believe that I made that quite clear. Now, about Morgan?" Hotch prompted, clearly not about to let that topic go either.

Reid chewed at his lip, his thoughts of how to slip through Hotch's line of questioning already beginning to form in his mind. He faltered for a moment, however, when Hotch nudged the plate of cake towards the other agent with care. And Reid, though he knew it was entirely irrational, suddenly felt bad for trying to close Hotch out. He blamed the phenylethylamine. Really, he did. A triple chocolate cake was bound to have enough in it to—

"Reid?"

Reid swallowed, his fork absentmindedly itching forward once more towards the cake. "I," he started though his excuse was caught in his throat as Hotch sent him a warning glare. As if Hotch knew that Reid was about to be less than truthful with him. Reid sighed. He really needed to work on the whole body language thing… or something to make it just a little bit harder for Hotch to read him. "I just don't want him to know, alright? It's bad enough that you know," and Hotch frowned all the more at the comment but didn't interrupt, "and well, we both know that Morgan doesn't let these things go. He's going to be hounding me until I tell him and I… just don't want to."

Hotch took a bite of the cake as he watched his youngest profiler. He took his time chewing, Reid's eyes transfixed on him as he waited for the older male's decree. Finally, after taking a drink of his coffee, Hotch stated, "He only behaves that way because he cares about you and because he knows that you keep everything pent up. He knows that if you don't talk to him, you're not going to talk to anyone."

"You don't talk to anyone," Reid attempted.

"I talk to Dave," Hotch replied easily. "And I have also talked to you on more than one occasion, haven't I?" Reid sunk back in his seat as he folded his arms across his chest as he knew that he wasn't about to win this round. Hotch arched a brow in response. "Don't pout, Reid."

"I'm not pouting!" Reid protested sounding rather undignified at the mere thought.

"Jack doesn't even pout that much," Hotch mused, seemingly having not heard the other's comment.

"I'm a federal agent!"

"That pouts like a five year old." Reid's jaw tightened and though he was clearly disgruntled, it was a gesture that didn't seem to help out his case in the least. An amused smirk tugged at the corners of Hotch's mouth. "Reid, would you like the last bite of cake?" he drew, trying to hide his enjoyment of the situation albeit not very well; even Reid wasn't fooled. Instantly Reid scoffed.

"No, I don't want the last bite."

"That's a lie. You want the piece; you and I both know it. Look, there's even some frosting with those chocolate sprinkles still on it."

Reid looked down. There _was_ a rather large amount of frosting, and the frosting _had_ been absolutely delicious… He really did want it. "But it's your piece," he conceded, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. Reid noted that the smirk was once again toying at Hotch's lips.

"Didn't stop you before." But before Reid could sputter out a reply, Hotch added, "Relax, I was teasing, but we can share it if it bothers you so much."

Reid paused, thinking it over. Hotch's posture suggested that he truly meant it, and Reid really did want another bite. "Alright, we can split it," he finally concluded with a slight wrinkle of a frown. He watched Hotch as the older male carefully sliced the piece into two relatively equal portions. The piece that had just a bit more frosting, however, was promptly nudged towards the young genius. Reid smiled before happily accepted the delectable morsel.

Hotch slid his own piece around the plate a bit to gather more chocolate syrup though his gaze did flicker upwards just in time to watch Reid practically lick his fork clean. There was a few moments of silence that passed, time Reid spent savoring the chocolate, before Hotch stated, "You know, before, all I was meaning to say is that Morgan cares about you and wants you to have someone to confide in."

Another paused as Reid mulled over what Hotch had to say. A moment later, however, and Reid let out a rather undignified squeak when Hotch leaned forward and ran his thumb across the corner of Reid's mouth. Hotch cocked a brow in response, as if the gesture had been perfectly normal. "You had frosting," was the simple response, and true enough, there was a bit of chocolate smeared across the older male's finger. Wide eyes watched as Hotch promptly licked the pad of said thumb, the unit chief musing afterwards, "Best cake I've had in awhile."

Reid wasn't sure that the flush on his face would ever go away. He felt like it was still there even after the ride back, even after having been seated at his desk for near twenty minutes. At least it would seem that Morgan was off taking his own lunch which meant that Reid was spared the teasing, continued interrogation, and he was finally able to get some work done. Or, at least he would be getting some work done if it weren't for the fact that Reid couldn't get the image of Hotch licking the frosting from his finger out of his mind.

Reid buried his face in his hands, groaning softly as he tried to will it away. It wasn't as if it had been terribly noteworthy nor had it—

"Doing okay, pretty boy?" Morgan drew followed promptly by a thump on Reid's desk. Apparently Morgan was back, and oh look, Reid hadn't even managed one case file. This had to be a record for Reid; he had never underachieved this much in his life, certainly not because of some obscure mental image of his boss. Not even the mental image of Hotch in a tutu seemed nearly as distracting.

"Yeah, fine," Reid murmured before pulling his hands away. Apparently the thump had been a large brown paper bag being set down before him. He promptly sent Morgan a curious look but Morgan didn't seem to notice. Instead he pulled up a chair and busied himself with unpacking the contents of the bag: Chinese take out boxes.

"Your head bothering you or something?" Morgan asked cautiously, as if he were testing the waters.

Reid tilted his head in confusion. His head? Why would Morgan think that there was something wrong with his head? When Reid offered Morgan nothing but a blank look, the darker skinned male laughed softly. "When I came in, you were holding your head but now I'm guessing that a headache isn't it."

"Oh." Reid waited for a moment, long enough for the older male to finish unpacking the bag before he asked, "Uh, Morgan… what's all this?"

"What's it look like? Lunch. I couldn't help but notice that Hotch pulled you away earlier before you could have any." Reid detected a very distinct note of distain to the other's voice though he was almost positive that it was because that by Hotch doing so, he had thwarted Morgan's earlier plan. "I figured I'd just get enough for the both of us." Morgan frowned as he began digging around, lifting up napkins and shifting containers. "I know I asked for a fork… Where'd it go?"

Reid absentmindedly chewed at his bottom lip. What was it with people trying to feed him today? First Hotch and now Morgan. Well, okay, the Morgan one wasn't such a rare occurrence but still…

And well, for some reason, Reid just couldn't bring himself to tell the other male that he had already eaten with their boss. He had done nothing wrong of course, hadn't broken any rules or anything of the like, but it just felt as though the matter should be kept, well, private. Just something between him and Hotch.

"Ah, there it is! A fork for the genius," Morgan announced with a big grin smeared across his face. The younger male promptly glared. Reid still didn't see just what the team found so amusing about the fact that he couldn't use chopsticks to save his life. He took the fork a bit more forcefully than what was needed, a gesture that only caused Morgan to laugh and throw up his hands in mock surrender.

"Pretty boy has some bite in him today," he teased.

While at one point in time, Morgan's comment would have greatly troubled Reid, by now he was used to Morgan being, well, Morgan. So instead of allowing his mind to go at warp-speed, stressing about the possible meanings and connotations, Reid simply snatched up the nearest container, leaned back in is seat and murmured, "Yeah, yeah. Maybe someone should tell them that we stopped needing a simple stick to stab at our food since around 2000 B.C.E." Of course, Reid couldn't even begin to imagine eating with a bone fork like that Qijia did.

Morgan just laughed, leaning forward to ruffle the other's hair. "I think that was a joke but I'm not quite sure," he replied, the grin never leaving his face.

The meal passed by easily enough, Reid mostly just pushed his food around because he was already outrageously full from the Italian restaurant. Thankfully Morgan didn't seem to feel the need to comment on Reid's seemingly lack of appetite. They just fell into a gentle ease and Reid actually began letting his guard down.

Big mistake.

"So, last night," Morgan started offhandedly, much to Reid's dismay.

He groaned and promptly set his current container down to glare at his best friend. "Morgan, can't you give this a rest?"

"Hey, I have some pretty nasty bruises on my side from getting knocked into an overturned stool last night. At least give me the courtesy of telling me why." Reid was filled with guilt as Morgan so casually mentioned that the fight hadn't been completely Hotch and Morgan beating the man to a bloody pulp, that they too had suffered some physical repercussions. He winced, opening his mouth to offer an apology, but Morgan never gave him the chance. "And," he drew, "_those_ certainly also look like they hurt, but as far as I could see, you were only a bystander and weren't exactly in the brawl with the unsub."

As he spoke, Morgan indicated to Reid's forearms that were now exposed after Reid had rolled up his sleeves to avoid dragging them through the puddle of grease Chinese take out always left. Sure enough, one of his arms was severally discoloured, a bright painting of purples and reds that faded out into rather vile shades of green. Reid swallowed. He had forgotten that the man had grabbed him and hadn't noticed the distorted hues of flesh until exactly that moment. It sounded impractical to not notice something like that, but Reid had been far too busy thinking about other things to pay any notice.

Like Hotch and the chocolate frosting.

_Focus, Reid, focus,_ he chided himself.

"That guy wasn't an unsub," he tried weakly, desperate to grab at anything he could to shift the conversation.

Morgan gave him a look that clearly said he wasn't going for it. "He was an unidentified subject that managed to enrage Hotch. So… yeah, unsub material if you ask me. Reid, what happened? Please, talk to me? You were upset last night, Hotch was upset last night. I just… I just want to know you're okay. Those bruises look like someone grabbed you. Was it Hotch?"

Reid could tell that Morgan didn't really believe that Hotch would do that; Morgan was too good of a profiler to not realize that it had been the man from the bar that had grabbed him, but the older agent was fishing, trying to pull something, anything to use.

Reid sighed before shaking his head. "No, of course not." He could practically see Morgan's profiler mind coming up with all possible explanations before narrowing them down. The more Reid talked, the more he revealed; they both knew that. And well, Reid just didn't want Morgan to know. "I… Morgan, would it make you feel better and trust me when I say that I'm alright if I told you that I've already talked to someone about all of this?" He prayed that Hotch had been right about this one.

Morgan blinked in surprise, leaning back in his seat to observe the other. "Really? You have?" and Morgan truly seemed baffled by the concept of Reid talking to someone of his own free will. "Who?"

Reid hesitated before replying, "Hotch."

"Hotch?" Morgan echoed, not seeming to understand, but Reid gave a slow nod in confirmation. Morgan absentmindedly rubbed the back of his head, clearly unsure of just how to process this new information. His gaze flickered up towards Hotch's office where he could see the unit chief hunched over his desk through the glass. "Hotch?" was the echo and Reid once again supplied a nod.

"Yes," he added almost nervously in conjecture.

Morgan took another moment to reflect before his attention returned to the young genius. Seeming to decide that Hotch was better than no one, Morgan finally replied, "Well, alright. Not who I'd pick as my confidant, but so long as you know that I'm here for you too, we're cool." Reid could still very plainly see Morgan's obvious curiosity but it seemed like he was willing to let it go for the moment and be content with his Chinese takeout.

Reid smiled. "I know."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Criminal Minds related and the base of this story belongs to RoseLaurel.**

Oh geeze. Where to even start? Ninety-two reviews? For seven chapters? Christ All Mighty On A Popsicle Stick. I can't even fathom. Really you guys, thank you so much. It means the absolute world to me. Words cannot even begin to describe.

I'm sorry for the long delay; life has a tendency to get in the way of writing sometimes, but hopefully that won't happen again. I like updating regularly, makes me happy.

Admittedly, I now have two completely different ideas for how this story could play out. One of pretty nice and fluffy while the other is not so nice and fluffy, and I can't decide which one I want to do. What do you guys think?

And I know this chapter is going to seem a bit random and out of place with nothing to do with much of anything, especially because not a lot seems to happen, but I promise that I have a reason for everything I write. Just bare with me.

* * *

Monday.

It always seemed to Reid that everyone was terribly sluggish and disgruntled come the technical beginning of the work week; Reid said technical because it was a very rare thing for a BAU member to go the two full days of their weekend without being interrupted a dozen or so times.

Reid stepped off the elevator; coffee cup held delicately in hand, his other pushed lazily into the pocket of his pants. As he strolled forward, sure enough, he couldn't help but note the way people dragged their feet as stumbled seemingly blindly about in a reminiscent manner of some old zombie movie. You know, before Hollywood decided that zombies needed to surpass human speed and be intelligent as well. Reid had never really cared for the new age zombies to be perfectly honest but that was an entirely different line of thought. Reid was more focused on the overall groggy feel of the room, of the way that people rubbed at their eyes as if that might somehow relieve the fatigue they were suffering from.

Or maybe they were hoping that it would somehow improve their vision? But by now, their eyes should already be well adjusted. Certainly they realized that?

More than once Reid caught sight of one of his coworkers yawning and murmuring about just how dreadfully awful Mondays were. The young genius pursed his lips ever so slightly as he leaned against his desk and took a sip from his coffee. Brown eyes washed across the bullpen in a curious manner. Reid just didn't understand the blatant distain people held for Monday or really any day of the week for that manner.

Reid had always found that he rather liked Mondays, even as a child it had been a very desirable day of the week.

Unfortunately the few tentative sips that Reid took while contemplating the problem of Monday were enough to polish off the cup. Before he could even so much as push off his desk, however, a brand new cup of coffee was being pushed into his hands much to Reid's surprise, but a smile was quick to replace his minor bewilderment as his gaze rose to meet that of Hotch's. Reid became aware that a few of their fingers were overlapping because of the attempt of exchanging the coffee cup, but he found that he didn't much mind. Surprisingly. He was actually almost a little disappointed when Hotch promptly readjusted so that Reid could take a hold of the cup without keeping possession of Hotch's hand.

"What's the occasion? Your horoscope tell you that you're going to be visiting the hospital soon and you figured you'd save the time of having to run out then to get me my coffee?" Reid partially inquired, partially teased. After all, it wasn't everyday that his boss decided to bring him coffee and it really did usually seem to be reserved for hospital visits.

It only occurred to Reid afterwards that Hotch might not find much humor in his attempt at a joke. The all too real thought of a hospitalized coworker probably wasn't all that funny. Reid winced, but Hotch didn't show much of a sign either way. Reid was once again grateful that Hotch seemed to have an abundance of patients for his social awkwardness.

"I thought you deserved a small reward," Hotch proceeded very matter of fact, not even bothering to acknowledge Reid's attempt at humor. "Garcia told me about how the two of you went out Saturday and that you didn't apologize once."

"Oh yay, being rewarded for rudeness. Maybe you'll upgrade to a trenta if I stop holding open doors for little old ladies too," Reid drew, resisting the urge to laugh.

"Trenta?" Hotch inquired, finally a hint of amusement showing through.

Reid nodded. "Mmhmm. The venti is only twenty-four ounces, but the trenta is thirty-one ounces."

"That's a lot of coffee. I wasn't even aware that they had that big of a size."

Reid resisted the urge to point out that each member of the team probably drank at least double that a day, instead allowing let silence fall upon them. Reid was rather content to just stand there with his new coffee, and Hotch seemed just as content with the situation, also moving to lean back against the desk. But as Reid's gaze moved towards the older male, he couldn't help but notice that the change in stance seemed more due to weariness than anything else. Sure enough, not a moment later and Hotch was attempting to stifle a yawn though Reid wouldn't rate the older male's success rate all that high.

Hotch's gaze slid towards Reid halfway through the yawn, Hotch arching a brow. "Penny for your thoughts, doctor?" he inquired.

"How about three dollars and fifty-seven cents?"

An amused smirk played across Hotch's face. "I already brought you coffee, didn't I?"

"But that was for a reward – not for my thoughts," Reid replied, surprised at his own boldness. He wouldn't consider their present conversation quite bantering but it… flowed. It came easy. As if it were natural.

"Well then you'll have another coffee on your desk tomorrow morning. A trenta with extra whipped cream if it's a particularly good thought."

Reid pursed his lips ever so faintly once more, turning away to face the bullpen that was now teaming with zombies masquerading as his coworkers. Reid just really didn't understand. Even Hotch seemed affected by the day of the week. Unable to help himself, Reid began contemplating just why people found Mondays so glum. Sure, research showed that the most common day of the week for heart attacks was Monday – Monday morning saw a drastic spike statistically, especially between the hours of four a.m. and ten a.m., but well, for some reason, Reid got the inkling that he was one of the few people in the room that knew that, if not the only one. So people couldn't really fret over what they didn't know which meant that that wasn't the source.

Children were also more likely to have migraines Monday mornings as well, but considering that none of his colleges were quite children despite how they may have behaved at times, that also seemed like something that could be scratched off the list of possible ailments.

"Reid?" Hotch asked casually to remind the doctor that he was still there though it was clear that it was more for the sake of conversation than anything else from the way Hotch folded his arms across his chest and momentarily closed his eyes. "Your trenta is dangerously close to being downsized."

Stiff in posture, even then, Reid noted.

Without thinking, Reid responded with the continuation of his mental tangent, saying an almost easy, almost musing, "Suicides are more likely to occur on Mondays than any other day of the week."

That certainly caught Hotch's attention. The older male's eyes snapped open, the unit chief turning to face Reid. Gone was the Monday weariness, replaced instead by an obvious concern that Reid didn't quite understand at first. "What're you trying to say, Reid?" Hotch asked cautiously, clearly concerned about his present footing.

Reid simply tilted his head and blinked, shifting ever so slightly as he became all too aware that Hotch was rapidly profiling him, analyzing every minuet detail but… why?

"Uh, Hotch," Reid started, fidgeting rather uncomfortably, but then it occurred to him just how his statement could be misinterpreted. Reid's eyes widened ever so slightly. "Oh no, Hotch, that's not what I meant at all."

Hotch seemed to relax somewhat at those words but he was still guarded, still watching his subordinate with a critical eyes as if he wasn't quite convinced.

"I mean it's just that's it's Monday," Reid hurriedly attempted to explain, waving his arms around in a sweeping fashion to animatedly gesture to the office around them. From one of Hotch's brows inching upwards, however, Reid could tell that he wasn't doing that great of a job with the whole explanation thing. Apparently Hotch didn't recognize the zombies for well, zombies. Reid promptly huffed in annoyance as it became more clear that he was getting absolutely no where. "Hotch, I'm not depressed."

There went the other eyebrow.

"I'm not!"

Perhaps that last shriek had been a bit loud, Reid realized as he suddenly felt a number of eyes on him and his boss from the people around them. Thankfully, people never felt the need to stare at Hotch very long least they incurred said male's wraith in the process.

"Hotch," Reid tried again weakly, dropping his voice to normal, inside office volume. "I promise you that I'm not depressed, and I promise that that is the furthest thing from my mind."

Hotch still seemed skeptical, but Reid could tell that he was slowly winning the other over, especially when Hotch asked a soft, "And if it were on your mind?"

Reid swallowed. It was a test; he knew what Hotch wanted to hear, but would Reid mean it? A moment passed in which Reid internally debated with himself over whether or not he could reply truthfully. Reid chewed at his bottom lip, looking up to meet Hotch's gaze. Finally, after enough time had elapsed to cause Hotch to show signs of worry, Reid managed, "I would talk to you."

And those were the magic words; Hotch relaxed entirely and actually offered the younger male a smile. "How about lunch today?"

And Reid brightened because the lunches he had come to share with Hotch were an occurrence that Reid was really beginning to look forward to. It had only been a few weeks since they had begun the lunch trend, and Reid wasn't quite sure just how but the whole lunch with Hotch thing had somehow managed to become a much needed staple. Of course, they couldn't do it everyday much to Reid's dismay; their chosen profession would never allow for such a regular schedule, never allow for such a hint of normalcy.

It was strange, even to Reid, that Hotch had managed to make himself apart of Reid's _normal_, even more surprising was that Reid was finding that he didn't so much mind the sudden intrusion. People often tried to lodge themselves into Reid's life, pry and force their way in and Reid always made the message that they needed to mind their own business crystal clear. But Hotch? Hotch had managed despite Reid's initial hesitance.

It was at that moment that Reid realized that Hotch had somehow managed to start clamoring his way to the top of the list of people Reid held most dear. Certainly Hotch had always held a high position – the entire team did – but this almost felt like something else. He wasn't sure when Hotch had earned the rise in rank.

"I would love that," Reid replied softly.

And there was a hint of a smile as Hotch replied, "Alright, lunch it is." With that, the older male finally moved away from Reid, obviously heading towards his office.

Reid wasn't surprised to find himself counting down the minutes until lunch not even an hour later. Sure, more often then not, when they made plans for lunch, Reid was greeted with an apologetic side look from his boss as he passed through the bullpen that meant a, "Not today." Postpone after postpone was even more of a routine than the actual lunch but Reid tried to stop himself from minding too much.

If it wasn't case files and paperwork depriving Reid of his lunches, it was bureaucratic meetings or an actual case. You know… _reasonable _excuses because they were supposed to be responsible adults. Responsible FBI agents even; FBI agents that weren't staring down their digital clocks on their computers. No, that wasn't Reid at all. Reid was being the dutiful agent that he always was.

But dutiful or not, Reid couldn't help but notice the solemn looking JJ marching with purpose through the bullpen and towards the stairs, a case file tucked securely beneath her arm. Reid knew what that meant. His entire form slummed, all pretense of happy, go-lucky simply evaporating from the young genius.

"You look like your puppy was just shot, Reid," Prentiss remarked a moment later as she stopped at said male's desk, empty coffee cup clutched in hand, an obvious sigh that she had been heading to the break room. When Reid didn't immediately respond, opting instead to rub at his eyes with a sigh, Prentiss took a small step forward to peer into Reid's own mug. A gesture that Reid found oddly intrusive but he said nothing.

"No, that's not it," she mused aloud with lightness to her tone, "still plenty of fuel for the doctor's batteries."

Reid finally nodded towards their superior's office where Hotch and JJ stood talking as the blonde passed the older male pictures. Hotch's face was set in a stoic, analytical manner, never a good sign. Reid offered no further explanation than his nod; Prentiss could infer just like she could infer and come up with her own conclusions for Reid's sudden dejected behavior. He knew that she would think he was upset because there was a pending case; the others always seemed to be under the illusion that every little thing was going to get to Reid, that everything was going to get under his skin. In this situation, however, he didn't feel the need to correct her.

And sure enough, the smile on Prentiss' face dropped as well as the cogs in her head finally lined up. "Do you think that it's going to be a bad one?"

JJ had been pale, she hadn't stopped to chat. Her march had been set, straight forward – like a martyr moving towards their cross. Reid swallowed, suddenly feeling ashamed for the fact that his original distain had been due to another postponed lunch rather than whatever horrible things were on those pictures clutched in Hotch's hands.

"Yeah… I think so," Reid stated softly before he turned to look at the female that was a mirror for his own weariness.

And Hotch opened the door to his office calling, "Team meeting."

From his tone, Reid knew that bad wasn't going to even begin to cover this case.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Criminal Minds related and the base of this story belongs to RoseLaurel.**

I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to update. Oh real life, how you vex me. Phft, why can't we all just live on the internet or something like that?

Well, because it's taken me so long to update, I'm moving in a completely different direction than I thought. Oh well.

Thank you to anyone who has reviewed, favorited, alerted, and all of that fun stuff. I'm sorry I haven't been able to reply to any of you but I've barely had enough time to write this. D: I'll try to get better at responding, I promise.

On that note, it has been mentioned to me that I'd benefit from a beta. XD I'm not going to deny that because boy, would I ever. A beta would make my world go round. I make typos and mistakes like you would not believe and even when I try going over what I've written, I still don't catch most of it. Unfortunately, I don't know anyone that would be willing to correct my grammar and tell me what a moron I am. If anyone wants to volunteer or make suggestions, I'm more than open to it. Until then, mistakes will probably continue to plague my stories. xD

* * *

Ten days, sixteen hours, and twenty-two minutes.

That was how long it had taken them to solve the case in this backwater city. Though really, if he was going to be honest, Reid was rather hesitant to give Shelton, Washington even that large of a label. Though there was really no set agreement about the actual differences of parameters, in Reid's humble opinion, town would be abundantly more accurate as opposed to city for all of Shelton's eight thousand, four hundred, forty-four residences.

Eight thousand, four hundred, forty-four according to the two thousand census at least, Reid couldn't help but add bitterly to his own mental thought process. The census didn't exactly include the latest body tally now did it?

Seventeen victims.

_Seventeen._

All mutilated, all tortured in such manners that Reid was sure would haunt him for a very long time. The only kindness that these victims had been afforded was the fact that the unsub had only held them for a day at most before killing them. Judging from the corpses, death was a blessing, a merciful act.

And it had taken them, the BAU, the most elite and sought after of the FBI, over ten days to find the unsub in a city of only eight thousand, four hundred, forty-four.

It couldn't be helped, Reid knew that. He knew that they had done their best. They had caught the bad guy, and he was safely tucked away in a prison cell to rot for the rest of his life for what he had done. He was never going to hurt anyone else. Those were the reassurances that Reid had been repeating to himself for years now and usually, on most nights, they worked well enough to allow him at least an hour or two of sleep.

But at the moment, it wasn't working all that well. It was two in the morning with wheels set to go up at eight, and Reid had been tossing and turning beneath the starchy, discoloured comforter of the motel for longer than he cared to count. Reid knew that his lack of sleep was probably a combination of the fresh horrors of the case, the desire to return to the comfort of his own bed, and well, his concern for Hotch.

While the case would eventually fade and he'd be able to sleep in his own bed in only a few hours, that last one was a bit trickier to remedy. Reid couldn't put his finger on it; he wasn't even quite sure just what it was that was bothering the older male. Yes, the case hadn't been pleasant. Yes, the case had been extremely stressful and wore on all of their mental wellbeing. Yes, they all felt responsible for taking so long to find their unsub. A thousand yeses and a thousand feelings of failure despite the success, but those were all normal feelings for the team to have when faced with a situation where they had already lost before they had ever been called in.

This, whatever this was, wasn't normal for Hotch.

Something had been bothering Hotch before he had even uttered the words, "Wheels up." Before they had even left for the case, Hotch had managed to erect very evident walls around him that had kept the entire team at bay during the case. They all saw it; Rossi had even tried to lightly broach the subject one morning over breakfast, but Hotch had shot him down before the words had even left Rossi's mouth and no one dared to try again. If Rossi couldn't manage, certainly no one else would be able to. They were just left to wallow in their concern for their leader. But what could they really do? Hotch's work hadn't been affected in the least during the case. He was still SSA Hotchner to the core, even more so if nothing else.

Hotch had taken to almost rigid formality with the group, not even entertaining Garcia's flirtatious behavior with Morgan that had become so much of the norm during a conference call. He had snapped at her, hinting that she was being unprofessional, a concept Reid found to be rather startling.

During the case, Reid had not allowed himself much time to focus on the difference in Hotch, instead allowing the other to simply be, but now, as he laid there in bed, he had nothing better to think about than Hotch's seemingly erratic behavior. Every minuet detail flashed through Reid's head: how Hotch had skipped meals with the team, how Hotch had kept everyone at an arm's length even more than usual, how he seemed to avoid the team – no, wait, that wasn't right. Reid frowned, his eyebrows wrinkling together as he stared up at the ceiling, trying to recall. Hotch hadn't been avoiding the team; he had been avoiding situations in which Reid had been present.

Sure, he had talked to Reid, but it had been minimal and strictly case related.

Reid hadn't noticed because he had been consumed by the case, but usually on even the worst cases, even with extreme time constraints, Hotch made a point to at least ask Reid how he was doing. Instead, this time, there had been nothing. No interpersonal connect. No sense of familiarity, as if they hadn't known each other for years. A strict, detached interaction. Professionalism at its finest.

He didn't understand, he really didn't, but there was no denying it.

Hotch was avoiding him.

And now that Reid knew it, it was going to drive him insane with a need to know why.

That was how Reid found himself only a few minutes later standing in front of Hotch's door, staring at the peeling numbers of sixty-four, barefoot but dressed in his t-shirt and Star Wars drawstring pajama bottoms. Sure, in his room it seemed like a good idea to simply march over to Hotch's room and demand to know what was going on – he had a right, didn't he? Especially if it was a problem between the two of them – but now that he was actually standing there? Well, Reid wasn't quite so positive.

But he was already here and he needed to know what he had done.

He deserved to know, he reminded himself, an attempt to renew his courage that for the most part worked.

And so he knocked before his courage made any further attempts to once again flee. And he stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the next, watching, waiting.

A moment later and the door opened partly, a too alert Hotch standing in the doorway with a look of concern. "What's wrong, Reid?" he asked, instinctively reaching towards his belt for either his phone or gun, Reid wasn't sure which. Reid immediately winced, reminding himself exactly what time it was. Of course Hotch would think the worse, that someone was in danger or something of a similar nature.

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Reid hurriedly amended, trying to put the older male at ease. It seemed to work just enough for Hotch to cock a brow and drop his hand. But he still didn't move from the doorway, Reid couldn't help but notice.

"What is it then?"

"What's wrong?"

"Excuse me?" Hotch frowned, staring at Reid as if he had grown another head.

"I want to know what's the matter."

"You're standing in front of my hotel room at two-thirty in the morning, waking me up, and you ask what's wrong?"

Reid blinked, tilting his head ever so slightly. He supposed Hotch had a point albeit a very small one. At this point in time, Hotch seemed to be inching closer to irritation than anything else, something Reid needed to avoid if he wanted to find out what was happening.

A moment passed before he made his choice and asked a soft, "Can I come in?" Reid wasn't quite sure just what he would do if Hotch refused. A gesture like that had far too many overtones than Reid cared to think about. He wasn't just asking to come into the room and they both knew it. Hotch saying no was Hotch closing Reid out. Perhaps for good. And for a moment, Reid thought that the older male really was going to refuse, but eventually Hotch sighed and sidestepped, granting access to his room to the youngest member of the team.

Reid couldn't help but smile ever so slightly as he murmured his thanks and moved inside, Hotch closing the door behind him. Reid resisted the urge to take a good look around, knowing that it'd only lead him to start profiling Hotch, something his unit chief probably wouldn't take very kindly to. He couldn't help, but notice, however, that the bed was completely made.

"I didn't wake you up," Reid murmured a moment later, his gaze returning to where Hotch stood.

"No," Hotch admitted but didn't seem in the least bit bothered by the fact that he had lied to Reid only moments ago. Of course, even without the bed, Reid felt slightly foolish for not realizing sooner. Hotch was, after all, still in his slacks and button down shirt. Certainly not sleeping attire.

Hotch cleared his throat when Reid didn't say anything further. "So what is it?" Hotch repeated.

"You've been acting different, and I want to know if you're alright."

"I don't need to remind you how stressful this case has been," Hotch replied dismissively though he suddenly looked very tired.

"I don't mean that. You've been treating me different," Reid tried again, determined to make some progress.

"Reid, I'm not in the mood for this tonight." It was flat, irritation showing through. Reid knew that that was Hotch's way of trying to kick him out, but Reid had no intentions of complying, instead taking a step closer to the older male.

"Tough." Hotch's eyebrows shot up at Reid's sudden bout of boldness. "Because if there's something going on between us," Reid continued, "we need to talk about it."

"Something going on between us?" Hotch repeated.

"You've been avoiding me. I think that classifies as something going on between us." Reid was, however, surprised at the slightly wiry and humorless smile that graced Hotch's lips in response.

"And so you thought that you would bang on my door at some ungodly hour and demand answers for something nonexistent, all the while in your pajamas? Seems a little dramatic and attention seeking, don't you think?" And there was that slightly chiding tone that showed Hotch wasn't angry or even irritated, and Reid immediately relaxed because it was infinitely better. Of course, Hotch's words had their desired effect because Reid suddenly felt appropriately embarrassed by his rather rash actions.

"Uh… well, it seemed like a good idea at the time," he replied with a weak smile. "I just couldn't sleep and I was tossing and turning in bed and I kept thinking about you and how—"

And there were those arched eyebrows again. " Tossing and turning in bed, thinking about me?" was the echo of Reid's words that instantly caused Reid to flush with further embarrassment.

"That's not what I meant!"

"But that is what happened?" And Reid certainly detected just a hair of smugness radiating from the older male at this new development.

"I was trying to sleep," Reid repeated through his teeth, wondering how he had rapidly lost control of the situation.

But Hotch's smirk only grew and the older male actually took a step closer to Reid, much to the younger male's surprise. Hotch reached out, gently placing a hand on Reid's cheek. A moment later and the smirk evaporated, replaced by a rather serious and almost solemn look. "Go back to bed Reid. I'm not… mad at you or even upset."

"But you're still avoiding me," Reid insisted, not about to let it go.

"Not for any of the reasons you're thinking, I'm sure."

Reid frowned. "Hotch… what is going on? You're upset. Talk to me."

Hotch dropped his hand and sighed. "I didn't want to take the case. I didn't want to come here." Reid frowned at the sudden revelation but said nothing, instead deciding to wait. Hotch didn't continue right away, instead moving to sit down on the bed, a gesture that Reid mirrored a moment later though he left space between the two of them, not wanting to push his luck any further than he already had.

"When JJ was showing me the case, a part of me simply wanted to say no. Why? Because I kept thinking, _no, not a case today. I'm supposed to have lunch with Spencer today. I've already had to cancel on him twice this week; I don't want to cancel on him again._" Hotch shook his head. "Imagine, the absurdity of it all. Even though I know that I would never have refused the case, the fact that a part of me _wanted_ to, really, truly, genuinely wanted to, and all for a _lunch_…" Hotch trailed off and sighed, shaking his head. "That's simply not acceptable. I am your _boss_." Though the last sentence sounded far too much like it was a reminder for Hotch and not directed towards him, Reid mentally noted.

The younger male swallowed, wondering if perhaps he should have left this conversation for someone like Rossi or even Morgan because he was at a loss as to what he should say. He wasn't exactly the right person to attempt to comfort someone else. It never exactly seemed like his field of expertise.

But Hotch needed him to say something and so Reid tried for the first thing that he could think of that wasn't statistically based.

"I sort of felt the same when I saw JJ walking towards your office with the file. I thought that maybe if she had only brought the case to you maybe an hour or two later…" Reid shook his head. "But we all know that the worst thing we could possibly do is waste what little time we have."

"They're just lunches," Hotch murmured absentmindedly, not seeming to really pay much attention to the male sitting next to him.

The comment, however, hurt. Just a little. Reid wasn't quite sure why, but it did. "It doesn't feel like it," was his own murmured response, something that did catch Hotch's attention.

The unit chief turned to look at Reid, tilting his head ever so slightly. "They can't be anything more than lunches, Reid," he stated quietly. "I'm your boss."

Reid scoffed, not even quite sure what they were really even talking about anymore. There were too many implied, too many innuendoes, too many overtones and subtext, and too much of it could simply all be in his head. "You started it. You're the one that dragged me to your house, the one that insisted that we start this whole lunch thing and—" and before he could finish, Hotch had caught Reid's arm, pulling him closer as he himself leaned over and gently pressed their lips together.

It was chaste, simple, and Reid was stunned. It lasted for only a moment before they both seemed to pull away at the same time, unreadable expression meeting unreadable expression. Reid wasn't sure how to react and it seemed that Hotch was, for once, the same.

Hotch seemed to collect himself first, however, breaking the silence as he released Reid's arm, "I think… I think that you should probably go back to your room now."

And Reid could only mutely nod, rising to his feet. Concern flickered across Hotch's face for a moment as he too rose, watching the younger male. Reid made his way towards the door without further prompting, opening the door for himself. He paused only for a moment to glance back at his section chief, an unsure look passing over Reid as he questioned whether or not any of that had actually taken place.

"Good night, Reid," Hotch stated quietly.

Reid simply nodded, murmuring a soft, "Night Hotch," before he slipped outside and closed the door behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Criminal Minds related and the base of this story belongs to RoseLaurel.**

So dontchafeel likedancing gave me a rather compelling incentive to update so here it is. XD

And thank you to the two people who have offered to beta for me. I need to reply to one person (I just haven't gotten around to it yet. xD;;) and the second person tried leaving me their email but it didn't go through.

And you know what I have recently discovered? Role playing. It is addictive and amazing and just where has it been my whole life? I'm extremely tempted to try and find a Criminal Minds one because it is simply fabulous. If anyone wants to point me in the right direction because I am pretty clueless, please, point away. xD

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Reid didn't know what to think. He, for once, didn't know how to mentally process the events that had taken place.

Or event. It wasn't exactly plural, was it? After all, it had only been a single kiss, really.

But Hotch had kissed him. Actually _kissed_ him.

_Him_, of all people.

And then he had sent him off to bed! Of all things! To_ bed_!

And Reid had actually done as he was told because what else could he have done but comply when his mind had been completely frozen? Of course, as soon as he had closed the door behind him, Reid had been just slightly displeased with himself. In what world did walking out of a room after something like that seem like a good idea? Shouldn't they have, you know, talked about it or something? But he hadn't exactly been able to muster up the courage to go back.

Could he even approach the subject with Hotch later? Would Hotch even acknowledge that it had happened? But then… Hotch had been the one to kiss him. That had to mean something, right?

Gingerly Reid rubbed at his temple, wondering just what he was supposed to do.

This was ridiculous, really. He was a grown man. He should be able to handle something like this.

Except he wasn't even exactly sure what 'this' was. Even labeling it was proving to be difficult.

Not for the first time, Reid reached down to adjust his bag that sat on the curb at his feet. Apparently it was enough to draw attention to him, however, because the next moment Morgan was letting out an exasperated, "Reid, kid, could you be still for just a minute? Your bag isn't going to sprout legs and walk away, I promise." Morgan's comment was also enough to draw the attention of the rest of the group that they stood with.

Reid looked up towards the other male, giving a slightly sheepish, but unconvincing smile. "Yeah, sorry," but before anything further could be said, two standard black SUVs pulled up to take them to the airstrip and then it would be home.

But here came the tricky part.

Reid always rode with Hotch who in turn always drove one of the vehicles. Always. Reid couldn't recall a single occurrence that didn't have outside circumstances when he hadn't chosen to ride with him. Perhaps it was simply because he knew that he tended to annoy Hotch the least out of everyone – Hotch had always had an abundance of patients for him.

And like always, Hotch was waiting patiently in one driver seat whilst Rossi was behind the wheel of the other one. Much like his chose to always ride with Hotch, Reid always avoided Rossi's vehicle when he could simply because he knew that out of the group, he annoyed Rossi the most. He knew that Rossi cared for him, the entire team did, but Reid was never eager to press his luck with the other male who never seemed quite sure as to how to handle him.

But that was something different. Right now, Hotch was looking at him expectantly.

It should have been simple to just climb into his normal position in the back of Hotch's SUV. Easy-peasy. Maybe he might even race Morgan for the front. No problem. Nothing was different between him and Hotch after all. With that matter mentally resolved and laid to rest, Reid picked up his bag to follow after the others whom were already moving towards the vehicles in question. At the last moment, however, Reid rapidly found himself changing courses, making a desperate escape as if his life depended on it, and sliding into the back of Rossi' vehicle, bag clutched desperately to his chest which only caused him to slightly fumble with his seatbelt.

His change of seating wasn't immediately noticed until JJ moved to climb into the vehicle only to pause at the sight of Reid already occupying the other side. She paused, frowned, and took a glance at just who the driver was, as if she had been the one to make a mistake as to what vehicle she was about to climb into. Upon noting that no, she hadn't been wrong, it was in fact Rossi behind the wheel, she started, "Uh, Reid," but that quickly trailed off because what was she supposed to say? _Why are you riding with us?_ Sure, because that wasn't terribly rude.

Reid resisted the urge to wince, instead smiling and asking an easy, "Yes?" now feeling Rossi's gaze on him as well. He should have just gone in Hotch's SUV. He really should have.

"Uh… do you want the front seat or should I sit there?" she finally inquired, but when Reid simply shook his head no, she offered a forced, in Reid's opinion at least or perhaps it was concerned, smile and went to move up front. Rossi, however, didn't hesitate like Reid was expecting him to; instead the oldest profiler simply put the SUV into drive and pulled out of the parking lot, leaving Morgan and a slightly baffled Prentiss to load into the remaining vehicle.

The ride was terribly uneventful, Rossi merely driving and JJ making idle chatter about Henry that Reid was all too happy to engage in. Rossi even inserted a polite comment here or there but for the most part he seemed content to merely drive. The one time that Reid did start to rattle out a statistic, however, he had received a rather stern glare through the rearview mirror from said older male that instantly caused Reid to drop off midsentence. JJ, in turn, had promptly scoffed at Rossi.

Now Reid sat on the couch of the jet, nose buried in a case file though his eyes did flicker up every once and awhile towards where Hotch sat in a chair also reading a new case file. As far as Reid could tell, the older male hadn't so much as looked at him once which was just a slightly irritating feeling to be honest.

Didn't Hotch want to know why Reid didn't ride with him? Did he even notice?

It was entirely irrational, Reid knew that, but at the same time…

Reid groaned aloud without meaning to and hung his head. He was being stupid.

"Everything alright, Reid?" Hotch drew softly, voice low least he wake one of the members of his team. With the exception of Morgan whom was wearing his headphones, everyone else was curled up somewhere trying to catch up on some much needed sleep, but Reid was faintly sure that Morgan too was also asleep. He hadn't stirred in quite some time after all. No one had slept well during the case.

Reid didn't look up, instead burying his face in his hands. It wasn't until Hotch prompted again, "Reid?" that the younger male realized that an answer was expected of him.

"Yeah, everything is fine. Just… tired," he offered though it was slightly muffled given the placement of his hands, but Reid really couldn't bring himself to care.

"You should get some sleep then."

Reid considered it for a moment before replying, "Maybe in a bit. I want to finish this case file."

There was some rustling, which Reid simply assumed was someone shifting to get more comfortable, but instead a moment later Reid felt the couch sink ever so slightly beneath a new weight. When no one said anything, Reid chanced a glance up and sure enough, there was Hotch sitting with his form partially twisted to face Reid, an unreadable expression on his face.

"You can finish paperwork later. That was a hard case, Reid. You need to sleep. After all, if I recall correctly, you didn't get much sleep last night." And there it was, so matter of fact. Reid felt colour rising to his cheeks ever so slightly at the memory. Didn't it affect Hotch at all? In addition, Reid was becoming rapidly aware of the fact that Hotch was sitting just slightly closer to him than usual, just enough for it to be noticeable but not quite enough that Reid could say for sure that Hotch had done it on purpose.

"Erm, right," Reid murmured as he focused his gaze away from the older male. "I'll… do that." And with that, Reid went to rise from his place on the couch only to be stopped midway by a firm hold on his arm. Baffled, Reid looked back towards Hotch. "Uh, Hotch?"

"Sleep here," Hotch stated simply as if it were the most practical thing in the world, which, Reid might point out, wasn't practical in the least. Just how was he supposed to sleep on the couch when Hotch was sitting there and showing absolutely no sign of moving?

When Reid didn't immediately reply nor move to either sit back down or pull away, Hotch gave the other's arm a gentle pull and Reid simply allowed his form to go with the flow. He ended up sitting terribly close to his unit cheif, legs lightly brushing against one and another. Reid shot the older male a faintly confused look but Hotch wasn't paying him any attention, instead pulling off his coat which was laid over the back of the chair that was within reaching distance. As Hotch adjusted himself so that he was leaning against the corner of the couch at a slight slant, Reid became abundantly aware of the fact that Hotch also intended to sleep on the couch.

Feeling his mouth go dry, Reid attempted, "Hotch, if you're tired too I can sleep on the chair or—"

"Don't be ridiculous. There is plenty of room for both of us. Besides, if I let you wonder off to the other side of the jet, you'll sneak in more paperwork."

While that wasn't exactly far from the truth, the fact that Hotch wanted him to sleep there… "Hotch, really—"

"Spencer, come here," Hotch stated with just a slightly firm edge to his voice as he raised his arm, a clear invitation.

Or decree. Reid wasn't exactly sure which.

Reid swallowed, eyes flickering across the unit chief's face for a moment before he slowly complied, shifting closer ever so hesitantly. Ever more carefully and completely conscious of himself, Reid tucked himself against Hotch, nestling against the warm and solid form. He practically jumped, however, when Hotch's arms came down and gingerly wrapped around him, pulling him just a smidge closer. Once he was quite positive that Hotch had no intention of moving his arms from their new found position, Reid allowed his head to slowly fall back against the other's chest.

If Reid were going to be honest, he'd have to admit to the fact that the position was oddly comforting. He closed his eyes and without meaning to, let out a sigh of content. The response he received was a soft but deep chuckle. "Comfortable?" Hotch drew gently.

"Mmhmm," Reid murmured, suddenly finding that he _was_ exceptionally tired. But then, "What're the others going to think?" Despite that thought, however, Reid didn't show even the faintest sign of wanting to get up.

Hotch shifted ever so slightly once more and Reid felt the older male's even breathing against his ear. "What about them? Are we doing something wrong, Spencer?"

And for some reason those words were enough to send a tingle down Reid's spine. "N-no," he managed to stammer out a moment later, praying that Hotch hadn't noticed the sudden increase in his heart rate. "No, we aren't. We're just…"

"Going to sleep?" Hotch supplied lightly when Reid trailed off, and as Reid finally opened his eyes, sure enough, there was that same smug smirk toying at the edges of Hotch's lips.

"Yeah. Sleep." And that was all that the genius could think to say as he watched his boss's lips. Slowly Hotch leaned forward and Reid felt the heat rising to his cheeks as he became aware of the fact that all he'd have to do was lean forward just a few more inches to close the distance –

"Unless you'd prefer something else?" and Reid's eyes widened ever so faintly much to Hotch's utter amusement, but when Reid said nothing, Hotch merely smirked and leaned back into his original position. "You should get some sleep now, Reid."

Slowly Reid nodded before he too leaned back and nestled further against Hotch, fighting down the faint trace of disappointment that lingered.

When Reid awoke, he could feel the faint descent of the jet, an obvious sign that they were almost ready to land. He felt surprisingly warm, not only from the extra body heat pressed against him but also from a jacket, at least judging by the feel of the material, that had been draped over his torso at some point in time while he had slept. Though his body was just slightly stiff from continuously staying in the same position, he couldn't bring himself to care all that much. The arms holding him tightly were… nice for a lack of a better word. He didn't particularly feel inclined to break free from the entangling limbs. Reid couldn't even bring himself to be alarmed as he remembered the fact that they were _Hotch's_ arms.

But none of that had been what had woken him up, however. Instead it was the hushed voice right beside his ear and an equally hushed, but clearly more upset, voice that was hovering just above where he sat. While he felt very much like he was eavesdropping, Reid got the distinct impression that it wouldn't exactly add to the conversation for the two males to know that he was now awake and so he simply laid there and kept his eyes closed.

"Hotch, what do you think you're doing? He's a kid and you're—"

"And I'm what, Morgan?" Hotch cut in quietly though there was no mistaking the almost lethal sounding edge to his voice.

"You're taking advantage of him," Morgan growled back, voice rising just a little bit in volume. "He trusts you; you're like his hero or something."

"Morgan, Reid is perfectly capable of taking care of himself and making his own decisions."

_Damn right I am_, Reid couldn't help but mentally add but by now he was thinking of a tactful way of informing the two males that he was awake. He didn't particularly care for the way that they were talking about him.

"I know that but sometimes he doesn't think."

"He's always thinking Morgan. Try again."

"You should know better: you're his _boss_."

And that argument caused a momentary falter because that had been the same exact argument that Hotch had said the previous night. Another moment passed before Hotch stated a quiet, "I am his boss, but we're not doing anything wrong," his grip on Reid's waist tightening ever so faintly.

"Doesn't look like it from where I'm standing. Hotch… how much _older_ are you than him?"

And there was another falter but before either of them could say anymore, Rossi was clearing his throat ever so strategically, followed by a loud yawn. Reid wasn't quite sure just what to think but at least Morgan and Hotch finally had the good graces to cease their conversation through Morgan added a soft, "We're not finished Hotch."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Criminal Minds related and the base of this story belongs to RoseLaurel.**

So, while I know that I'm not the best at replying to reviews in general, for some reason, I can't seem to reply to any review at all. FF isn't letting me and I have absolutely no idea why. So I'm really sorry to anyone that may have asked a question or something and I wasn't able to reply. I'm trying to figure it out and will hopefully be able to reply in the near future. x.x

Thank you guys for the reviews, favorites, alerts and everything in between.**  
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Once the two males had ceased their conversation, Reid decided that there really was no need for him to actually alert them that he was awake. After all, if he was awake then he would no longer have an excuse to stay where he was and really, Reid was perfectly content now that he wasn't being discussed.

Reid couldn't ever really remember having been held like this. Couldn't really remember anyone willingly inducing physical contact in such a manner.

And for Hotch to do it so blatantly in front of the team? As if it didn't bother him in the least, as if he didn't care what the team thought. As if he wasn't… ashamed that there might be just a little bit more between the two of them.

The thought startled Reid more than it should have, however.

A little more? With Hotch?

Was he alright with that? He must have been; after all, there he was, laying against Hotch with the hope that he wouldn't have to move any time in the near future, hoping that Morgan would mind his own business and just let them be.

"How long do you play on pretending to be asleep?" Hotch murmured ever so softly against Reid's ear and Reid resisted the urge to smile, despite his somewhat uncomfortable train of thought. He was caught apparently.

"How long have you known?" was the very soft response, Reid not exactly knowing how close his teammates were but not quite wanting them to overhear.

"Halfway through my conversation with Morgan," Hotch replied easily and Reid felt him shift in such a manner that suggested he gave a one-sided shrug. "But that doesn't mean that what I said was only for your benefit. I would have said those things regardless."

But here Reid sensed just the slightest hint of doubt in Hotch's voice, and he wasn't quite sure just what that meant. He opened his eyes to look up at the older male but Hotch was looking everywhere but Reid. Reid swallowed.

"Hotch?"

"Hmm?"

"Is everything alright?" Reid asked softly, treading softly.

Before either of them could say anymore, however, there was a rather amused, "Are the cutbacks really so bad that we can't afford pillows anymore and so our unit chief has to fill in?" Prentiss chimed from her chair where she had been sleeping only moments before. Now her slightly groggy eyes rested on where Reid and Hotch sat, amusement dancing across her face. "Well alright, I'm next. This chair is killing my neck. Scoot on over Reid."

There was some amused snickering from Rossi and JJ and even Hotch cracked a smile though Reid couldn't help but note that Morgan didn't seem all that pleased by the seemingly harmless comment. Hotch either didn't notice or didn't care because he replied a light, "Sorry, but Reid has me checked out for the remainder of the flight. It's a health hazard to share pillows, you understand."

Prentiss laughed before she looked over towards Morgan. Noting his pointed look out one of the windows, she nudged him with her foot, exclaiming, "I guess I'll just have to settle for Garcia's Chocolate Adonis for my budget cut replacement pillow, eh?" Instead Morgan's scowl deepened, his jaw muscles tightening. Sensing the dangerous territory, Prentiss quickly began to backtrack, changing the subject instead to trivial matters such as weather and the like.

Becoming increasingly uncomfortable with Morgan's blatant disdain and the sideways looks he would throw Hotch, Reid moved to sit up, deciding that it just wasn't worth it. Reid apologetically offered Hotch his jacket back that he had been using as a blanket and placed a healthy distance between the two of them, and though Reid noted the hard lines on Hotch's face through the process, the older profiler said nothing.

Needless to say, the rest of the flight was rather… uncomfortable. Both physically as the couch paled in comparison to the comfort of Hotch and well, tension-wise because the atmosphere only seemed to become more and more hostile. Neither alpha male said anything but neither of them were bothering to hide their annoyance.

When the plane finally landed, Reid wasn't the only member of the team that launched to their feet and immediately began gathering their stuff. But as Reid made his way out onto the tarmac, he direly wished that he had simply stayed in the plane forever, perhaps locked himself in the bathroom or something, because both Morgan and Hotch stood there waiting though with a good few feet in between them as if the other carried an infectious disease. Lovely. Reid had never wished that he hadn't taken the subway more in his life.

Stepping down, Reid hesitated for a moment. Neither male said anything but it was clear that they were both waiting for him to make a choice. He would have preferred to go with Hotch, he really would have, but as he looked at Morgan, Reid knew that his friend was in pain, knew that Morgan was struggling. To go with Hotch… It would be entirely selfish. Morgan needed him.

Reid swallowed before flashing their unit chief a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow Hotch. Bright and early."

And the choice was made, just like that.

And though Hotch's composure never wavered for even a moment, Reid instantly regretted his decision. Hotch merely gave him a simple nod, picked up his own Go Bag, and turned around, walking away. Without a word.

Reid couldn't tear his eyes away from the retreating figure, not until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Finally he turned towards Morgan who smiled at him. "Come on, Pretty Boy. Let's get you home."

Reid forced himself to offer a grin as well, giving the older male a nod of confirmation. Morgan promptly picked up both of their bags without thought, turning and moving in an opposing direction from Hotch. Reid gave his unit chief's back one more glance before hurriedly following after Morgan, easily falling into a step next to the male.

The ride was uneventful to say the least, the two FBI agents allowing meaningless small talk to pass between them, neither finding that they minded it all that much. But as Morgan pulled up to Reid's loft, the younger male offered, "Do you want to come in? I could make us something to eat." It was only a pretense, of course; they had both known from the moment that Reid had said good bye to Hotch that Morgan would come over. After all, neither had broached the pending discussions they wished to have.

So it really came as no surprise when Morgan replied without even the faintest hesitation, "Sounds good," and undid his seatbelt. Once again grabbing Reid's Go Bag, he followed the younger male up to his apartment.

It wasn't until Reid stood in front of his stove cooking eggs and bacon, however, that Morgan drew a, "So, you and Hotch…"

And there was a good long silence that passed before Reid finally cleared his throat and asked, "What about Hotch and myself?" And Reid busied himself with flipping the bacon, refusing to meet the other's gaze.

"Reid. He was practically holding you on top of him on the plane."

Reid's brows instantly shot up and this time he did turn to look at Morgan, surprising written across his face. "That's not quite what happened."

"That's sure what it looked like."

"Morgan, if that's what you saw then you have severe interpersonal relationship issues that need to be immediately addressed because I think the generally used term would be cud—"

"Don't give me that shit Reid! He was holding onto you like you were some sort possession!"

"His arm was laying around my waist! Where else would it go comfortably while we were in that position, pray tell?"

"He was _forcing_—"

And here Reid faltered as it clicked into place.

It seemed obvious really, but for some reason, it had completely eluded Reid before that moment.

Two males. A severe age gap. A possible abuse of power and trust.

It didn't take a genius to put it together that Morgan's past was blurring together with the present situation. He wasn't seeing Reid; he was seeing himself.

"Derek," Reid stated softly, cutting off the older male midsentence. "This is Hotch we're talking about. He would never… he would never hurt me."

"How do you know that?" Morgan demanded. "You can't know that! Sometimes it's the people closest to us that would hurt us the most. Sometimes, it's the people we think that would never do anything to us, that would never," and Derek was choking on his words in a manner that Reid had very rarely witnessed before.

And Reid didn't quite know what to say. Slowly the younger male took a few steps closer to Morgan and pulled the older male into a tight hug. Morgan flinched and for a moment Reid was sure that the other was going to push him away. Instead, though it took a few moments, Morgan gently wrapped his arms around Reid, returning the hug if only a bit hesitantly.

"I trust him," Reid stated softly. "I trust him, Derek. More than anything."

And Morgan's grip tightened ever so slightly as if to shield Reid. "Why? Why would you trust him? He's never done anything—"

"That's just it in a way. He's never done anything but be there. He's never done anything but just exist. He's never done anything more than just be himself and that… that's what means the most to me. It's silly but we go to lunch and he lets me ramble, he lets me be myself. I feel… at ease. I can't explain it, but I've always just felt… comfortable around him. And he does stupid things like that god awful apology jar and sending me to bed, and you know what? I enjoy every minute of it. I enjoy knowing that… he cares. And I feel like that it wouldn't matter what I did, no matter what, he'd be there for me."

Reid shook his head, laughing softly at how absolutely ridiculous it was, at how he couldn't even think of the words to formulate a proper explanation to Morgan about just how he felt. He wasn't even quite sure what he felt. He just knew that he liked it. He knew that he wanted to keep it.

And above all else, he knew that he needed Hotch to know that as well.

Morgan pulled back and Reid couldn't quite place the mixed expression on his face but as he started a soft, "Morgan," the other male promptly exclaimed, "The eggs are burning."

And sure enough, as Reid turned back to the stove, they were.

That evening, long after Morgan had departed for home claiming that he probably needed to feed Clooney, Reid found himself on the doorstep of one Aaron Hotchner. It wasn't by any means a decent hour as it had taken Reid a good amount of time to muster up the courage to come in the first place, and he wasn't sure what he was going to say or do but… he had to do something. He knocked tentatively on the door and immediately realized that he probably should have called first considering that the first words out of Hotch's mouth after he opened the door was a spiteful, partially slurred, "What the fuck do you want?"


End file.
